


























■*# 



Book H S't Qas 


Copyright N°_ 

COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 


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Our Little Alaskan Cousin 


THE 

Little Cousin Series 

(trade mark) 

Each volume illustrated with six or more full-page plates in 
tint. Cloth, i2mo, with decorative cover, 
per volume, 60 cents 


LIST OF TITLES 


By Mary Hazelton Wade 

(unless otherwise indicated) 

Our Little African Cousin Our Little Indian Cousin 


Our Little Alaskan Cousin 

By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet 

Our Little Arabian Cousin 

By Blanche McManus 

Our Little Armenian Cousin 

Our Little Brazilian Cousin 

By H. Lee M. Pike 

Our Little Brown Cousin 

Our Little Canadian Cousin 

By Elizabeth R. Macdonald 

Our Little Chinese Cousin 

By Isaac Taylor Headland 

Our Little Cuban Cousin 

Our Little Dutch Cousin 

By Blanche McManus 

Our Little English Cousin 

By Blanche McManus 

Our Little Eskimo Cousin 

Our Little French Cousin 

By Blanche McManus 

Our Little German Cousin 
Our Little Hawaiian Cousin 

Our Little Hindu Cousin 

By Blanche McManus 


Our Little Irish Cousin 
Our Little Italian Cousin 
Our Little Japanese Cousin 
Our Little Jewish Cousin 

Our Little Korean Cousin 

By H. Lee M. Pike 

Our Little Mexican Cousin 

By Edward C. Butler 

Our Little Norwegian Cousin 

Our Little Panama Cousin 

By H. Lee M. Pike 

Our Little Philippine Cousin 
Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 
Our Little Russian Cousin 

Our Little Scotch Cousin 

By Blanche McManus 

Our Little Siamese Cousin 

Our Little Spanish Cousin 

By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet 

Our Little Swedish Cousin 

By Claire M. Coburn 

Our Little Swiss Cousin 
Our Little Turkish Cousin 


{In Preparation ) 

Our Little Australian Cousin 


L. C. PAGE COMPANY 

New England Building, Boston, Mass. 











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“ KALITAN FISHED DILIGENTLY BUT CAUGHT LITTLE.” 

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By 

Mary F. Nixon-Roulet 

Author of “ Our Little Spanish Cousin,” “ JFi//* 
o Pessimist in Spain,” “ God, //ze 
King, My Brother,” etc. 


Illustrated 



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WJkss Cc. XXc„ No. 

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Copyright , /907 
By L. C. Page & Company 

(incorporated) 

All rights reserved 


First Impression, May, 1907 


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COLONIAL PRESS 

Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds Co. 

Boston, U. S. A . 







TO MY LITTLE SON 

3Fotm jStjron He EooUt 




Preface 


Away up toward the frozen north lies the 
great peninsula, which the United States bought 
from the Russians, and thus became responsi¬ 
ble for the native peoples from whom the Rus¬ 
sians had taken the land. 

There are many kinds of people there, from 
Indians to Esquimos, and they are under the 
American Government, yet they have no votes 
and are not called American citizens. 

It is about this country and its people that 
this little story is written, and in the hope of 
interesting American girls and boys in these 
very strange people, their Little Alaskan Cous¬ 


ins. 






















Contents 


♦ 


CHAPTER 


PAGE 


I. Kalitan Tenas ..... I 
II. Around the Camp-fire . . .12 

III. To the Glacier ..... 26 

IV. Ted Meets Mr. Bruin . . . .38 

V. A Monster of the Deep . . .48 

VI. The Island Home of Kalitan . . 60 

VII. Twilight Tales and Totems . . 71 

VIII. The Berry Dance . . . .82 

IX. On the Way to Nome . . . *93 

X. In the Gold Country .... 108 

XI. Afternoon Tea in an Eglu . . .119 

XII. The Splendour of Saghalie Tyee . . 129 







List of Illustrations 


“ Kalitan fished diligently but caught lit¬ 
tle ” ( See page 3) ... Frontispiece 

“Away went another stinging lance ” . .57 

“ A GROUP OF PEOPLE AWAITING THE CANOES ” . 64 

Mount Shishaldin ...... 99 

“‘Let’s watch those two men. They have 

EVIDENTLY STAKED A CLAIM TOGETHER ’ ” . II3 

“ TWO FUNNY LITTLE LAPP BABIES HE TOOK TO 

RIDE ON A LARGE REINDEER ” . . I34 









Our Little Alaskan Cousin 


CHAPTER I 

KALITAN TENAS 

It was bitterly cold. Kalitan Tenas felt it 
more than he had in the long winter, for then 
it was still and calm as night, and now the wind 
was blowing straight in from the sea, and the 
river was frozen tight. 

A month before, the ice had begun to break 
and he had thought the cold was over, and that 
the all too short Alaskan summer was at hand. 
Now it was the first of May, and just as he 
had begun to think of summer pleasures, lo! 
a storm had come which seemed to freeze the 
very marrow of his bones. However, our little 



2 


Our Little Alaskan Cousin 


Alaskan cousin was used to cold and trained 
to it, and would not dream of fussing oyer a 
little snow-storm. 

Kalitan started out to fish for his dinner, 
and though the snow came down heavily and 
he had to break through the ice to make a 
fishing-hole, and soon the ice was a wind-swept 
plain where even his own tracks were covered 
with a white pall, he fished steadily on. He 
never dreamed of stopping until he had fish 
enough for dinner, for, like most of his tribe, 
he was persevering and industrious. 

Kalitan was a Thlinkit, though, if you asked 
him, he would say he was “ Klinkit.” This is 
a tribe which has puzzled wise people for a 
long time, for the Thlinkits are not Esquimos, 
not Indians, not coloured people, nor whites. 
They are the tribes living in Southeastern 
Alaska and along the coast. Many think that 
a long, long time ago, they came from Japan 
or some far Eastern country, for they Iook 


Kalitan Tenas 


3 


something like the Japanese, and their lan¬ 
guage has many words similar to Japanese in it. 

Perhaps, long years ago, some shipwrecked 
Japanese were cast upon the coast of Alaska, 
and, finding their boats destroyed and the land 
good to live in, settled there, and thus began 
the Thlinkit tribes. 

The Chilcats, Haidahs, and Tsimsheans are 
all Thlinkits, and are by far the best of the 
brown people of the Northland. They are 
honest, simple, and kind, and more intelligent 
than the Indians living farther north, in the 
colder regions. The Thlinkit coast is washed 
by the warm current from the Japan Sea, and 
it is not much colder than Chicago or Boston, 
though the winter is a little longer. 

Kalitan fished diligently but caught little. 
He was warmly clad in sealskin; around his 
neck was a white bearskin ruff, as warm as 
toast, and very pretty, too, as soft and fluffy as 
a lady’s boa. On his feet were moccasins of 


4 


Our Little Alaskan Cousin 


walrus hide. He had been perhaps an hour 
watching the hole in the ice, and knelt there 
so still that he looked almost as though he were 
frozen. Indeed, that was what those thought 
who saw him there, for suddenly a dog-sledge 
came round the corner of the hill and a loud 
halloo greeted his ears. 

“ Boston men,” he said to himself as he 
watched them, “ lost the trail.” 

They had indeed lost the trail, and Ted 
Strong had begun to think they would never 
find it again. 

Chetwoof, their Indian guide, had not talked 
very much about it, but lapsed into his favourite 
“ No understand” a remark he always made 
when he did not want to answer what was said 
to him. 

Ted and his father were on their way from 
Sitka to the Copper River. Mr. Strong was 
on the United States Geological Survey, which 
Ted knew meant that he had to go all around 


Kalitan Tenas 


5 


the country and poke about all day among rocks 
and mountains and glaciers. He had come with 
his father to this far Alaskan clime in the hap¬ 
piest expectation of adventures with bears and 
Indians, alway dear to the heart of a boy. 

He was pretty tired of the sledge, having 
been in it since early morning, and he was cold 
and hungry besides; so he was delighted when 
the dogs stopped and his father said: 

“ Hop out, son, and stretch your legs. We’ll 
try to find out where we are before we go any 
farther.” 

Chetwoof meanwhile was interviewing the 
boy, who came quickly toward them. 

“ Who are you?” demanded Chetwoof. 

“ Kalitan Tenas,” was the brief reply. 

“ Where are we? ” was the next question. 

“ Near to Pilchickamin River.” 

“ Where is a camp? ” 

“ There,” said the boy, pointing toward a 
clump of pine-trees. “ Ours.” 

\ 


6 


Our Little Alaskan Cousin 


Ted by this time was tired of his own un¬ 
wonted silence, and he came up to Kalitan, 
holding out his hand. 

“ My name is Ted Strong,” he said, genially, 
grinning cheerfully at the young Alaskan. “ I 
say this is a jolly place. I wish you would teach 
me to fish in a snow-hole. It must be great fun. 
I like you; let’s be friends!” Kalitan took 
the boy’s hand in his own rough one. 

“ Mahsie ” (thank you), he said, a sudden 
quick smile sweeping his dark face like a fleet¬ 
ing sunbeam, but disappearing as quickly, leav¬ 
ing it grave again. “Olo?” (hungry). 

“ Yes,” said Mr. Strong, “ hungry and cold.” 

“ Camp,” said Kalitan, preparing to lead the 
way, with the hospitality of his tribe, for the 
Thlinkits are always ready to share food and 
fire with any stranger. The two boys strode 
off together, and Mr. Strong could scarcely 
help smiling at the contrast between them. 

Ted was the taller, but slim even in the furs 


Kalitan Tenas 


7 


which almost smothered him, leaving only his 
bright face exposed to the wind and weather. 
His hair was a tangle of yellow curls which no 
parting could ever affect,- for it stood straight 
up from his forehead like a golden fleece; his 
mother called it his aureole. His skin was fair 
as a girl’s, and his eyes as big and blue as a 
young Viking’s; but the Indian boy’s locks 
were black as ink, his skin was swarthy, his 
eyes small and dark, and his features that 
strange mixture of the Indian, the Esquimo, 
and the Japanese which we often see in the best 
of our Alaskan cousins. 

Boys, however, are boys all the world over, 
and friendly animals, and Ted was soon chatter¬ 
ing away to his newly found friend as if he had 
known him all his life. 

“ What’s your name? ” he asked. 

“ Kalitan,” was the answer. “ They call me 
Kalitan Tenas ; 1 my father was Tyee.” 

1 Little Arrow. 


8 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 

u Where is he? ” asked Ted. He wanted to 
see an Indian chief. 

“ Dead,” said Kalitan, briefly. 

“ I’m sorry,” said Ted. He adored his own 
father, and felt it was hard on a boy not to 
have one. 

“He was killed,” said Kalitan, “ but we had 
blood-money from them,” he added, sternly. 

“ What’s that? ” asked Ted, curiously. 

“ Long time ago, when one man kill another, 
his clan must pay with a life. One must be 
found from his tribe to cry, ‘ O-o-o-o-o-a- 
ha-a-ich-klu-kuk-ich-ldu-kuk ’ ” (ready to die, 
ready to die). His voice wailed out the mourn¬ 
ful chant, which was weird and solemn and 
almost made Ted shiver. “ But now,” the boy 
went on, “ Boston men ” (Americans) “ do not 
like the blood-tax, so the murderer pays money 
instead. We got many blankets and baskets 
and moneys for Kalitan Tyee. He great chief.” 

“ Do you live here? ” asked Ted. 


Kalitan Tenas 


9 

“ No, live on island out there.” Kalitan 
waved his hand seaward. “ Come to fish with 
my uncle, Klake Tyee. This good fishing- 
ground.” 

“ It’s a pretty fine country,” said Ted, glanc¬ 
ing at the scene, which bore charm to other than 
boyish eyes. To the east were the mountains 
sheltering a valley through which the frozen 
river wound like a silver ribbon, widening 
toward the sea. A cold green glacier filled the 
valley between two mountains with its peaks 
of beauty. Toward the shore, which swept in 
toward the river’s mouth in a sheltered cove, 
were clumps of trees, giant fir, aspen, and hem¬ 
lock, green and beautiful, while seaward swept 
the waves in white-capped loveliness. 

Kalitan ushered them to the camp with great 
politeness and considerable pride. 

“ You’ve a good place to camp,” said Mr. 
Strong, “ and we will gladly share your fire 
until we are warm enough to go on.” 


io Our Little Alaskan Cousin 

Ted’s face fell. “ Must we go right away? ” 
he asked. “ This is such a jolly place.” 

“ No go to-day,” said Kalitan, briefly, to 
Chetwoof. “ ,Colesnass” 1 

“Huh!” said Chetwoof. “Think some.” 

“ Here comes my uncle,” said Kalitan, and 
he ran eagerly to meet an old Indian who came 
toward the camp from the shore. He eagerly 
explained the situation to the Tyee, who wel¬ 
comed the strangers with grave politeness. He 
was an old man, with a seamed, scarred face, 
but kindly eyes. Chief of the Thlinkits, his 
tribe was scattered, his children dead, and Kali¬ 
tan about all left to him of interest in life. 

“ There will be more snow,” he said to Mr. 
Strong. “You are welcome. Stay and share 
our fire and food.” 

“ Do let us stay, father,” cried Ted, and his 
father smiled indulgently, but Kalitan looked 
at him in astonishment. Alaskan boys are 


1 Snow. 


Kalitan Tenas 


11 

taught to hold their tongues and let their elders 
decide matters, and Kalitan would never have 
dreamed of teasing for anything. 

But Mr. Strong did not wish to face another 
snow-storm in the sledge, and knew he could 
work but little till the storm was passed; so 
he readily consented to stay a few days and let 
Ted see some real Alaskan hunting and fishing. 

Both boys were delighted, and soon had the 
camp rearranged to accommodate the strangers. 
The fire was built up, Ted and Kalitan gather¬ 
ing cones and fir branches, which made a fra¬ 
grant blaze, while Chetwoof cared for the 
dogs, and the old chief helped Mr. Strong pitch 
his tent in the lee of some fragrant firs. Soon 
all was prepared and supper cooking over the 
coals, — a supper of fresh fish and seal fat, 
which Alaskans consider a great delicacy, and 
to which Mr. Strong added coffee and crackers 
from his stores, — and Indians and whites ate 
together in friendliness and amity. 


CHAPTER II 

AROUND THE CAMP-FIRE 

“ How does it happen that you speak Eng¬ 
lish, Kalitan ? ” asked Mr. Strong as they sat 
around the camp-fire that evening. The snow 
had continued during the afternoon, and the 
boys had had an exciting time coasting and 
snow-balling and enjoying themselves generally. 

“ I went for a few months to the Mission 
School at Wrangel,” said Kalitan. “ I learned 
much there. They teach the boys to read and 
write and do sums and to work the ground be¬ 
sides. They learn much more than the girls.” 

“ Huh ! ” said the old chief, grimly. “ Girls 
learn too much. They no good for Indian 
wives, and white men not marry them. Best 


12 


Around the Camp-fire 13 

for girls to stay at home at the will of their 
fathers until they get husbands.” 

“ So you’ve been in Wrangel,” said Ted to 
Kalitan. “ We went there, too. It’s a dandy 
place. Do you remember the fringe of white 
mountains back of the harbour? The people 
said the woods were full of game, but we didn’t 
have time to go hunting. There are a few 
shops there, but it seemed to me a very small 
place to have been built since 1834. In the 
States whole towns grow up in two or three 
weeks.” 

“Huh!” said Kalitan, with a quick shrug 
of his shoulders, “ quick grow, sun fade and 
wind blow down.” 

“ I don’t think the sun could ever fade in 
Wrangel,” laughed Ted. “ They told me there 
it hadn’t shone but fifteen days in three months. 
It rained all the time.” 

“ Rain is nothing,” said Kalitan. “ It is 
when the Ice Spirit speaks in the North Wind’s 


Our Little Alaskan Cousin 


14 

roar and in the crackling of the floes that we 
tremble. The glaciers are the children of the 
Mountain Spirit whom our fathers worshipped. 
He is angry, and lo 1 he hurls down icebergs 
in his wrath, he tosses them about, upon the 
streams he tosses the kyaks like feathers and 
washes the land with the waves of Sitth. When 
our people are buried in the ground instead of 
being burnt with the fire, they must go for ever 
to the place of Sitth, of everlasting cold, where 
never sun abides, nor rain, nor warmth.” 

Ted had listened spellbound to this poetic 
speech and gazed at Kalitan in open-mouthed 
amazement. A boy who could talk like that 
was a new and delightful playmate, and he 
said: 

Tell me more about things, Kalitan,” but 
the Indian was silent, ashamed of having 
spoken. 

“ What do you do all day when you are at 
home? ” persisted the American. 


Around the Camp-fire 15 

“ In winter there is nothing to do but to 
hunt and fish,” said Kalitan. “ Sometimes we 
do not find much game, then we think of how, 
when a Thlinkit dies, he has plenty. If he has 
lived as a good tribesman, his kyak glides 
smoothly over the silver waters into the sunset, 
until, o’er gently flowing currents, it reaches 
the place of the mighty forest. A bad war¬ 
rior’s canoe passes dark whirlpools and terrible 
rapids until he reaches the place we speak not 
of, where reigns Sitth. 

“ In the summer-time we still hunt and fish. 
Many have learned to till the ground, and we 
gather berries and wood for the winter. The 
other side of the inlet, the tree-trunks drift 
from the Yukon and are stranded on the islands, 
so there is plenty for firewood. But upon our 
island the women gather a vine and dry it. 
They collect seaweed for food in the early 
spring, and dry it and press it into square cakes, 
which make good food after they have hung 


16 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 

long in the sun. They make baskets and sell 
them to the white people. Often my uncle and 
I take them to Valdez, and once we brought 
back fifty dollars for those my mother made. 
There is always much to do.” 

“ Don’t you get terribly cold hunting in the 
winter?” asked Ted. 

“ Thlinkit boy not a baby,” said Kalitan, a 
trifle scornfully. “We begin to be hardened 
when we are babies. When I was five years 
old, I left my father and went to my uncle to 
be taught. Every morning I bathed in the 
ocean, even if I had to break ice to find water, 
and then I rolled in the snow. After that my 
uncle brushed me with a switch bundle, and 
not lightly, for his arm is strong. I must not 
cry out, no matter if he hurt, for a chief’s son 
must never show pain nor fear. That would 
give his people shame.” 

“ Don’t you get sick? ” asked Ted, who felt 


Around the Camp-fire 17 

cold all over at the idea of being treated in such 
a heroic manner. 

“ The Kooshta 1 comes sometimes,” said 
Kalitan. “ The Shaman 2 used to cast him out, 
but now the white doctor can do it, unless the 
kooshta is too strong.” 

Ted was puzzled as to Kalitan’s exact mean¬ 
ing, but did not like to ask too many questions 
for fear of being impolite, so he only said: 

“ Being sick is not very nice, anyhow.” 

“ To be bewitched is the most terrible,” said 
Kalitan, gravely. 

“How does that happen?” asked Ted, 
eagerly, but Kalitan shook his head. 

“ It is not good to hear,” he said. “ The 
medicine-man must come with his drum and 
rattle, and he is very terrible. If the white 
men will not allow any more the punishing of 

1 Kooshta, a spirit in animal’s form which inhabits the 
body of sick persons and must be cast out, according to 
Thlinkit belief. 

2 Shaman, native medicine-man. 


18 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 


the witches, they should send more of the white 
medicine-men, if we are not to have any more 
of our own.” 

“ Boys should not talk about big things,” 
said the old chief suddenly. He had been sit¬ 
ting quietly over the fire, and spoke so suddenly 
that Kalitan collapsed into silence. Ted, too, 
quieted down at the old chief’s stern voice and 
manner, and both boys sat and listened to the 
men talking, while the snow still swirled about 
them. 

Tyee Klake told Mr. Strong many interest¬ 
ing things about the coast country, and gave 
him valuable information as to the route he 
should pursue in his search for interesting 
things in the mountains. 

“ It will be two weeks before the snow will 
break so you can travel in comfort,” he said. 
“ Camp with us. We remain here one week, 
then we go to the island. We can take you 


Around the Camp-fire 19 

there, you will see many things, and your boy 
will hunt with Kalitan.” 

“ Where is your island? ” asked Mr. Strong. 

Ted said nothing, but his eyes were fixed 
eagerly upon his father. It was easy to see that 
he wished to accept the invitation. 

“ Out there.” Tyee Klake pointed toward 
where the white coast-line seemed to fade into 
silvery blue. 

“There are many islands; on some lives 
no one, but we have a village. Soon it will be 
nearly deserted, for many of our people rove 
during the summer, and wander from one camp¬ 
ing-ground to another, seeking the best game 
or fish. But Kalitan’s people remain always on 
the island. Him I take with me to hunt the 
whale and seal, to gather the berries, and to 
trap the little animals who bear fur. We find 
even seal upon our shores, though fewer since 
your people have come among us.” 

“ Which were the best, Russians or Ameri- 


20 


Our Little Alaskan Cousin 


cans?” asked Mr. Strong, curious to see what 
the old Indian would say, but the Tyee was not 
to be caught napping. 

“ Men all alike,” he said. “ Thlinkit, Rus¬ 
sian, American, some good, some bad. Rus¬ 
sians used Indians more, gave them hunting 
and fishing, and only took part of the skins. 
Americans like to hunt and fish all themselves 
and leave nothing for the Indians. Russians 
teach quass, Americans teach whiskey. Before 
white men came, Indians were healthy. They 
ate fish, game, berries; now they must have 
other foods, and they are not good for Indians 
here,” — he touched his stomach. “Indian 
used to dress in skins and furs, now he must 
copy white man and shiver with cold. He soon 
has the coughing sickness and then he goes into 
the unknown. 

“ But the government of the Americans is 
best because it tries to do some things for the 
Indian. It teaches our boys useful things in 



“A GROUP OF PEOPLE AWAITING THE CANOES.” 

















u 


AWAY WENT ANOTHER STINGING LANCE 


















“TWO FUNNY LITTLE LAPP BABIES HE TOOK TO RIDE ON 


LARGE REINDEER.” 









Around the Camp-fire 21 

the schools, and, if some of its people are bad, 
some Indians are bad, too. Men all alike,” 
he repeated with the calm stoicism of his race. 

“ The government is far away,” said Mr. 
Strong, “ and should not be blamed for the 
doings of all its servants. I should like to see 
this island home of yours, and think we must 
accept your invitation; shall we, Ted?” he 
smiled at the boy. 

“Yes, indeed; thank you, sir,” said Ted, 
and he and Kalitan grinned at each other hap- 
pily. 

“ We shall stay in camp until the blue jay 
comes,” said the old chief, smiling, “ and then 
seek the village of my people.” 

“ What does the blue jay mean? ” asked Ted, 
timidly, for he was very much in awe of this 
grave old man. 

Kalitan said something in Thlinkit to his 
uncle, and the old chief, looking kindly at the 
boy, replied with a nod: 


22 


Our Little Alaskan Cousin 


“ I will tell you the story of the blue jay,” 
he said. 

“ My story is of the far, far north. Beside 
a salmon stream there dwelt people rich in 
slaves. These caught and dried the salmon for 
the winter, and nothing is better to eat than 
dried salmon dipped in seal oil. All the fish 
were caught and stored away, when lo! the 
whiteness fell from heaven and the snows were 
upon them. It was the time of snow and they 
should not have complained, but the chief was 
evil and he cursed the whiteness. No one 
should dare to speak evil of the Snow Spirit, 
which comes from the Unknown! Deeper and 
deeper grew the snow. It flew like feathers 
about the eglu , 1 and the slaves had many troub¬ 
les in putting in limbs for the fire. Then the 
snow came in flakes so large they seemed like 
the wings of birds, and the house was covered, 
and they could no longer keep their kyaks 

1 Hut. 


on 


Around the Camp-fire 23 

top of the snow. All were shut tight in the 
house, and their fire and food ran low. They 
knew not how many days they were shut in, 
for there was no way to tell the day from night, 
only they knew they were sore hungry and that 
the Snow Spirit was angry and terrible in his 
anger. 

“ But each one spoke not; he only chose a 
place where he should lie down and die when 
he could bear no more. 

“ Only the chief spoke, and he once. * Snow 
Spirit,’ he said aloud, * I alone am evil. These 
are not so. Slay me and spare! ’ But the Snow 
Spirit answered not, only the wind screamed 
around the eglu, and his screams were terrible 
and sad. Then hope left the heart of the chief 
and he prepared to die with all his people and 
all his slaves. 

“ But on the day when their last bit of food 
was gone, lo! something pecked at the top of 
the smoke-hole, and it sang ‘ Nuck-tee,’ and it 


Our Little Alaskan Cousin 


was a blue jay. The chief heard and saw and 
wondered, and, looking ’neath the smoke-hole, 
he saw a scarlet something upon the floor. 
Picking it up, he found it was a bunch of In¬ 
dian tomato berries, red and ripe, and quickly 
hope sprang in his breast. 

“ 1 Somewhere is summer,’ he cried. ‘ Let 
us up and away.’ 

“ Then the slaves hastened to dig out the 
canoe, and they drew it with mighty labour, 
for they were weak from fasting, over the 
snows to the shore, and there they launched 
it without sail or paddle, with all the people 
rejoicing. And after a time the wind carried 
them to a beach where all was summer. Birds 
sang, flowers bloomed, and berries gleamed 
scarlet in the sun, and there were salmon jump¬ 
ing in the blue water. They ate and were sat¬ 
isfied, for it was summer on the earth and sum¬ 
mer in their hearts. 

“ That is how the Thlinkits came to our 


Around the Camp-fire 25 

island, and so we say when the snow breaks, 
that now comes the blue jay.” 

“ Thank you for telling us such a dandy 
story,” cried Ted, who had not lost a word of 
this quaint tale, told so graphically over the 
camp-fire of the old chief Klake. 


CHAPTER III 


TO THE GLACIER 

Ted slept soundly all night, wrapped in the 
bearskins from the sledge, in the little tent he 
shared with his father. When the morning 
broke, he sprang to his feet and hurried out 
of doors, hopeful for the day’s pleasures. The 
snow had stopped, but the ground was covered 
with a thick white pall, and the mountains were 
turned to rose colour in the morning sun, which 
was rising in a blaze of glory. 

“ Good morning, Kalitan,” shouted Ted to 
his Indian friend, whom he spied heaping wood 
upon the camp-fire. “ Isn’t it dandy? What 
can we do to-day? ” 

“ Have breakfast,” said Kalitan, briefly. 
“ Then do what Tyee says.” 


26 


To the Glacier 


27 


Well, I hope he’ll say something exciting,” 
said Ted. 

“ Think good day to hunt,” said Kalitan, as 
he prepared things for the morning meal. 

“ Where did you get the fish? ” asked Ted. 

“ Broke ice-hole and fished when I got up,” 
said the Thlinkit. 

“ You don’t mean you have been fishing 
already,” exclaimed the lazy Ted, and Kalitan 
smiled as he said: 

“ White people like fish. Tyee said: ‘ Catch 
fish for Boston men’s breakfast,’ and I go.” 

“ Do you always mind him like that? ” asked 
Ted. He generally obeyed his father, but there 
were times when he wasn’t anxious to and ar¬ 
gued a little about it. Kalitan looked at him 
in astonishment. 

“ He chief! ” he said, simply. 

“ What will we do with the camp if we all 
go hunting? ” asked Ted. 

“ Nothing,” said Kalitan. 


28 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 

“ Leave Chetwoof to watch, I suppose,” con¬ 
tinued Ted. 

“Watch? Why?” asked Kalitan. 

“Why, everything; some one will steal our 
things,” said Ted. 

“ Thlinkits not steal,” said Kalitan, with dig¬ 
nity. “ Maybe white man come along and steal 
from his brothers; Indians not. If we go away 
to long hunt, we cache blankets and no one 
would touch.” 

“ What do you mean by cache? ” asked Ted. 

“ We build a mound hut near the house, and 
put there the blankets and stores. Sometime 
they stay there for years, but no one would take 
from a cache. If one has plenty of wood by 
the seashore or in the forest, he may cord it and 
go his way and no one will touch it. A deer 
hangs on a tree where dogs may not reach it, 
but no stray hunter would slice even a piece. 
We are not thieves.” 

“ It is a pity you could not send missionaries 


To the Glacier 


29 


to the States, you Thlinkits, my boy,” said Mr. 
Strong, who had come up in time to hear Kali- 
tan’s words. “ I’m afraid white people are less 
honest.” 

“ Teddy, do you know we are to have some 
hunting to-day, and that you’ll get your first 
experience with a glacier.” 

“ Hurrah,” shouted Ted, dancing up and 
down in excitement. 

“ Tyee Klake says we can hunt toward the 
base of the glacier, and I shall try to go a little 
ways upon it and see how the land lies, or, 
rather, the ice. It is getting warmer, and, if 
it continues a few days, the snow will melt 
enough to let us go over to that island you are 
so anxious to see.” 

Ted’s eyes shone, and the amount of break¬ 
fast he put away quite prepared him for his 
day’s work, which, pleasant though it might be, 
certainly was hard work. The chief said they 
must seek the glacier first before the sun got 


30 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 

hot, for it was blinding on the snow. So they 
set out soon after breakfast, leaving Chetwoof 
in charge of the camp, and with orders to catch 
enough fish for dinner. 

“ We’ll be ready to eat them, heads and 
tails,” said Ted, and his father added, laugh¬ 
ingly : 

“ ‘ Bible, bones, and hymn-book, too.’ ” 

“What does that mean?” asked Ted, as 
Kalitan looked up inquiringly. 

“ Once a writer named Macaulay said he 
could make a rhyme for any word in the Eng¬ 
lish language, and a man replied, ‘ You can’t 
rhyme Timbuctoo.’ But he answered without 
a pause: 

“ If I were a Cassowary 
On the plains of Timbuctoo, 

I’d eat up a missionary, 

Bible, bones, and hymn-book, too.” 

Ted laughed, but Kalitan said, grimly: 

“ Not good to eat Boston missionary, he 
all skin and bone! ” 


To the Glacier 


31 


“Where did they get the name Alaska?” 
asked Ted, as they tramped over the snow 
toward the glacier. 

“ Al-ay-ck-sa — great country,” said Kalitan. 

“It certainly is,” said Ted. “It’s fine! I 
never saw anything like this at home,” point¬ 
ing as he spoke to the scene in front of him. 

A group of evergreen trees, firs and the 
Alaska spruce, so useful for fires and torches, 
fringed the edge of the ice-field, green and ver¬ 
dant in contrast to the gleaming snows of the 
mountain, which rose in a gentle slope at first, 
then precipitously, in a dazzling and enchanting 
combination of colour. It was as if some mar¬ 
ble palace of old rose before them against the 
heavens, for the ice was cut and serrated into 
spires and gables, turrets and towers, all seem¬ 
ing to be ornamented with fretwork where the 
sun’s rays struck the peaks and turned them 
into silver and gold. Lower down the ice 
looked like animals, so twisted was it into fan- 


32 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 

tastic shapes; fierce sea monsters with yawning 
mouths seeming ready to devour; bears and 
wolves, whales, gigantic elephants, and snowy 
tigers, tropic beasts looking strangely out of 
place in this arctic clime. 

Deep crevices cut the ice-fields, and in their 
green-blue depths lurked death, for the least 
misstep would dash the traveller into an abyss 
which had no bottom. Beyond the glacier it¬ 
self, the snow-capped mountains rose grand and 
serene, their glittering peaks clear against the 
blue sky, which hue the glacier reflected and 
played with in a thousand glinting shades, from 
purpling amethyst to lapis lazuli and tur¬ 
quoise. 

As they gazed spellbound, a strange thing oc¬ 
curred, a thing of such wonder and beauty that 
Ted could but grasp his father’s arm in si¬ 
lence. 

Suddenly the peaks seemed to melt away, the 
white ice-pinnacles became real turrets, houses 


To the Glacier 


33 

and cathedrals appeared, and before them arose 
a wonderful city of white marble, dream-like 
and shadowy, but beautiful as Aladdin’s palace 
in the “ Arabian Nights.” At last Ted could 
keep silent no longer. 

“What is it?” he cried, and the old chief 
answered, gravely: 

“ The City of the Dead,” but his father 
said: 

“ A mirage, my boy. They are often seen 
in these regions, but you are fortunate in seeing 
one of the finest I have ever witnessed.” 

“ What is a mirage? ” demanded Ted. 

“ An optical delusion,” said his father, “ and 
one I am sure I couldn’t explain so that you 
would understand it. The queer thing about 
a mirage is that you usually see the very thing 
most unlikely to be found in that particular 
locality. In the Sahara, men see flowers and 
trees and fountains, and here on this glacier we 
see a splendid city.” 


34 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 

“ It certainly is queer. What makes glaciers, 
daddy?” Ted was even more interested than 
usual in his father’s talk because of Kalitan, 
whose dark eyes never left Mr. Strong’s face, 
and who seemed to drink in every word of 
information as eagerly as a thirsty bird drinks 
water. 

“ The dictionaries tell you that glaciers are 
fields of ice, or snow and ice, formed in the 
regions of perpetual snow, and moving slowly 
down the mountain slopes or valleys. Many 
people say the glaciers are the fathers of the 
icebergs which float at sea, and that these are 
broken off the glacial stream, but others deny 
this. When the glacial ice and snow reaches 
a point where the air is so warm that the ice 
melts as fast as it is pushed down from above, 
the glacier ends and a river begins. These are 
the finest glaciers in the world, except, perhaps, 
those of the Himalayas. 

“ This bids fair to be a wonderfully interest- 


To the Glacier 


35 


ing place for my work, Ted, and I’m glad 
you’re likely to be satisfied with your new 
friends, for I shall have to go to many places 
and do a lot of things less interesting than the 
things Kalitan can show you. 

“ See these blocks of fine marble and those 
superb masses of porphyry and chalcedony, — 
but there’s something which will interest you 
more. Take my gun and see if you can’t bring 
down a bird for supper.” 

Wild ducks were flying low across the edge 
of the glacier and quite near to the boys, and 
Ted grasped his father’s gun in wild excite¬ 
ment. He was never allowed to touch a gun 
at home. Dearly as he loved his mother, it had 
always seemed very strange to him that she 
should show such poor taste about firearms, 
and refuse to let him have any; and now that 
he had a gun really in his hands, he could hardly 
hold it, he was so excited. Of course it was not 
the first time, for his father had allowed him 


36 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 

to practise shooting at a mark ever since they 
had reached Alaska, but this was the first time 
he had tried to shoot a living target. He se¬ 
lected his duck, aimed quickly, and fired. Bang! 
Off went the gun, and, wonder of wonders I 
two ducks fell instead of one. 

“ Well done, Ted, that duck was rwins,” 
cried his father, laughing, almost as excited as 
the boy himself, and they ran to pick up the 
birds. Kalitan smiled, too, and quietly picked 
up one, saying: 

“ This one Kalitan’s,” showing, as he spoke, 
his arrow through the bird’s side, for he had 
discharged an arrow as Ted fired his gun. 

“ Too bad, Ted. I thought you were a 
mighty hunter, a Nimrod who killed two birds 
with one stone,” said Mr. Strong, but Ted 
laughed and said: 

“ So I got the one I shot at, I don’t care.” 

They had wild duck at supper that night, for 


To the Glacier 37 

Chetwoof plucked the birds and roasted them 
on a hot stone over the spruce logs, and Ted, 
tired and wet and hungry, thought he had never 
tasted such a delicious meal in his life. 


CHAPTER IV 


TED MEETS MR. BRUIN 

It seemed to Ted as if he had scarcely 
touched the pillow on the nights which followed 
before it was daylight, and he would awake to 
find the sun streaming in at his tent flap. He 
always meant to go fishing with Kalitan before 
breakfast, so the moment he woke up he jumped 
out of bed, if his pile of fragrant pine boughs 
covered with skins could be called a bed, and 
hurried through his toilet. Quick as he tried 
to be, however, he was never ready before Kali- 
tan, for, when Ted appeared, the Indian boy 
had always had his roll in the snow and was 
preparing his lines. 

Kalitan was perfectly fascinated with the 
American boy. He thought him the most won- 

38 


Ted Meets Mr. Bruin 


39 

derful specimen of a boy that he had ever seen. 
He knew so much that Kalitan did not, and 
talked so brightly that being with Ted was to 
the Indian like having a book without the 
bother of reading. There were some things 
about him that Kalitan could not understand, 
to be sure. Ted talked to his father just as if 
he were another boy. He even spoke to Tyee 
Klake on occasions when that august personage 
had not only not asked him a question, but was 
not speaking at all. From the Thlinkit point 
of view, this was a most remarkable perform¬ 
ance on Ted’s part, but Kalitan thought it must 
be all right for a “ Boston boy,” for even the 
stern old chief seemed to regard happy-go-lucky 
Ted with approval. 

Ted, on the other hand, thought Kalitan the 
most remarkable boy he had ever met in all his 
life. He had not been much with boys. His 
“ Lady Mother,” as he always called the gentle, 
brown-eyed being who ruled his father and 


40 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 

himself, had not cared to have her little Gala- 
had mingle with the rougher city boys who 
thronged the streets, and had kept him with 
herself a great deal. Ted had loved books, and 
he and his little sister Judith had lived in a 
pleasant atmosphere of refinement, playing hap¬ 
pily together until the boy had grown almost 
to dread anything common or low. His mother 
knew he had moral courage, and would face 
any issue pluckily, but his father feared he 
would grow up a milksop, and thought he 
needed hardening. 

Mrs. Strong objected to the hardening proc¬ 
ess if it consisted in turning her boy loose to 
learn the ways of the city streets, but had con¬ 
sented to his going with his father, urged 
thereto by fears for his health, which was not of 
the best, and the knowledge that he had reached 
the “ bear and Indian ” age, and it was cer¬ 
tainly a good thing for him to have his experi¬ 
ences first-hand. 


Ted Meets Mr. Bruin 


41 


To Ted the whole thing was perfectly de¬ 
lightful. When he lay down at night, he 
would often like to see “ Mother and Ju,” but 
he was generally so tired that he was asleep 
before he had time to think enough to be really 
homesick. During the day there was too much 
doing to have any thinking time, and, since he 
had met this boy friend, he thought of little 
else but him and what they were to do next. 
The Tyee had assured Mr. Strong that it was 
perfectly safe for the boys to go about together. 

“ Kalitan knows all the trails,” he said. 
“ He take care of white brother. Anything 
come, call Chetwoof.” 

As Mr. Strong was very anxious to penetrate 
the glacier under Klake’s guidance, and wanted 
Ted to enjoy himself to the full, he left the boys 
to themselves, the only stipulation being that 
they should not go on the water without Chet¬ 
woof. 

There seemed to be always something new 


42 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 

to do. As the days grew warmer, the ice broke 
in the river, and the boys tramped all over the 
country. Ted learned to use the bow and ar¬ 
row, and brought down many a bird for sup¬ 
per, and proud he was when he served up for 
his father a wild duck, shot, plucked, and 
cooked all by himself. 

They fished in the stream by day and set 
lines by night. They trapped rabbits and hares 
in the woods, and one day even got a silver fox, 
a skin greatly prized by the fur traders on 
account of its rarity. Kalitan insisted that Ted 
should have it, though he could have gotten 
forty dollars for it from a white trader, and Ted 
was rejoiced at the idea of taking it home to 
make a set of furs for Judith. 

One day Ted had a strange experience, and 
not a very pleasant one, which might have been 
very serious had it not been for Kalitan. He 
had noticed a queer-looking plant on the river- 
bank the day before, and had stopped to pick 


Ted Meets Mr. Bruin 


43 

it up, when he received such a sudden and unex¬ 
pected pricking as to cause him to jump back 
and shout for Kalitan. His hand felt as if it 
had been pierced by a thousand needles, and he 
flew to a snow-bank to rub it with snow. 

“ I must have gotten hold of some kind of 
a cactus,” he said to Kalitan, who only replied: 

“ Huh! picked hedgehog,” as he pointed to 
where Ted’s cactus was ambling indignantly 
away with every quill rattling and set straight 
out in anger at having his morning nap dis¬ 
turbed. Kalitan wrapped Ted’s hand in soft 
mud, which took the pain out, but he couldn’t 
use it much for the next few days, and did not 
feel eager to hunt when his father and the Tyee 
started out in the morning. Kalitan remained 
with him, although his eyes looked wistful, for 
he had heard the chief talk about bear tracks 
having been seen the day before. Bears were 
quite a rarity, but sometimes an old cinnamon 
or even a big black bruin would venture down 


44 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 

in search of fresh fish, which he would catch 
cleverly with his great paws. 

Kalitan and Ted fished awhile, and then Ted 
wandered away a little, wondering what lay 
around a point of rock which he had never yet 
explored. Something lay there which he had 
by no means expected to see, and he scarcely 
knew what to make of it. On the river-bank, 
close to the edge of the stream, was a black 
figure, an Indian fishing, as he supposed, and 
he paused to watch. The fisherman was cov¬ 
ered with fur from head to foot, and, as Ted 
watched him, he seemed to have no line or rod. 
Going nearer, the boy grew even more puzzled, 
and, though the man’s back was toward him, 
he could easily see that there was something un¬ 
usual about the figure. Just as he was within 
hailing distance and about to shout, the figure 
made a quick dive toward the water and sprang 
back again with a fish between his paws, and 
Ted saw that it was a huge bear. He gave a 


Ted Meets Mr. Bruin 


45 

sharp cry and then stood stock-still. The crea¬ 
ture looked around and stood gnawing his fish 
and staring at Ted as stupidly as the boy stared 
at him. Then Ted heard a halloo behind him 
and Kalitan’s voice: 

“ Run for Chetwoof, quick! ” 

Ted obeyed as the animal started to move 
off. He ran toward the camp, hearing the re¬ 
port of Kalitan’s gun as he ran. Chetwoof, 
hearing the noise, hurried out, and it was but 
a few moments before he was at Kalitan’s side. 
To Ted it seemed like a day before he could 
get back and see what was happening, but he 
arrived on the scene in time to see Chetwoof 
despatch the animal. 

“Hurrah!” cried Ted. “You’ve killed a 
bear,” but Chetwoof only grunted crossly. 

“Very bad luck! ” he said, and Kalitan ex¬ 
plained: 

“ Indians don’t like to kill bears or ravens. 
Spirits in them, maybe ancestors.” 


46 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 

Ted looked at him in great astonishment, 
but Kalitan explained: 

“ Once, long ago, a Thlinkit girl laughed at 
a bear track in the snow and said: ‘ Ugly animal 
must have made that track! ’ But a bear heard 
and was angry. He seized the maiden and bore 
her to his den, and turned her into a bear, and 
she dwelt with him, until one day her brother 
killed the bear and she was freed. And from 
that day Thlinkits speak respectfully of bears, 
and do not try to kill them, for they know not 
whether it is a bear or a friend who hides 
within the shaggy skin.” 

The Tyee and Mr. Strong were greatly sur¬ 
prised when they came home to see the huge 
carcass of Mr. Bruin, and they listened to the 
account of Kalitan’s bravery. The old chief 
said little, but he looked approvingly at Kali- 
tan, and said “ Hyas kloshe ” (very good), 
which unwonted praise made the boy’s face 
glow with pleasure. They had a great discus- 


Ted Meets Mr. Bruin 


47 


sion as to whom the bear really belonged. Ted 
had found him, Kalitan had shot him first, and 
Chetwoof had killed him, so they decided to 
go shares. Ted wanted the skin to take home, 
and thought it would make a splendid rug for 
his mother’s library, so his father paid Kalitan 
and Chetwoof what each would have received 
as their share had the skin been sold to a trader, 
and they all had bear meat for supper. Ted 
thought it finer than any beefsteak he had ever 
eaten, and over it Kalitan smacked his lips audi¬ 
bly. 


CHAPTER V 


A MONSTER OF THE DEEP 

The big bear occupied considerable atten¬ 
tion for several days. He had to be carefully 
skinned and part of the meat dried for future 
use. Alaskans never use salt for preserving 
meat. Indeed they seem to dislike salt very 
much. It had taken Ted some time to learn 
to eat all his meat and fish quite fresh, without 
a taste of salt, but he had grown to like it. 
There is something in the sun and wind of 
Alaska which cures meat perfectly, and the 
bear’s meat was strung on sticks and dried in 
the sun so that they might enjoy it for a long 
time. 

It seemed as if the adventure with Bruin was 
enough to last the boys for several days, for 

48 


A Monster of the Deep 49 

Ted’s hand still pained him from ihe porcu¬ 
pine’s quills, and he felt tired and lazy. He lay 
by the camp-fire one afternoon listening to Kali- 
tan’s tales of his island home, when his father 
came in from a long tramp, and, looking at 
him a little anxiously, asked: 

“ What’s the matter, son? ” 

4 “ Nothing, I’m only tired,” said Ted, but 
Kalitan said: 

“ Porcupine quills poison hand. Well in a 
few days.” 

“ So your live cactus is getting in his work, 
is he? I’m glad it wasn’t the bear you mistook 
for an Alaskan posy and tried to pick. I’m 
tired myself,” and Mr. Strong threw himself 
down to rest. 

“ Daddy, how did we come to have Alaska, 
anyway? ” 

“ Well, that’s a long story,” said his father, 
“ but an interesting one.” 

“ Do tell us about it,” urged Ted. “ I know 


50 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 

we bought it, but what did we pay the Indians 
for it? I shouldn’t have thought they’d have 
sold such a fine country.” 

Kalitan looked up quickly, and there was a 
sudden gleam in his dark eyes that Ted had 
never seen before. 

“ Thlinkits never sell,” he said. “ Russians 
steal.” 

Mr. Strong put his hand kindly on the boy’s 
head. 

“ You’re right, Kalitan,” he said. “ The 
Russians never conquered the Thlinkits, the 
bravest tribe in all Alaska. 

“ You see, Teddy, it was this way. A great 
many years ago, about 1740, a Danish sailor 
named Bering, who was in the service of the 
Russians, sailed across the ocean and discovered 
the strait named for him, and a number of 
islands. Some of these were not inhabited, 
others had Indians or Esquimos on them, but, 
alter the manner of the early discoverers, Be- 


A Monster of the Deep 51 

ring took possession of them all in the name of 
the Emperor of Russia. It doesn’t seem right 
as we look at things now, but in those days 
‘ might made right,’ and it was just the same 
way the English did when they came to Amer¬ 
ica. 

“ The Russians settled here, finding the fish¬ 
ing and furs fine things for trade, and driving 
the Indians, who would not yield to them, far¬ 
ther and farther inland. In 1790 the Czar 
made Alexander Baranoff manager of the trad¬ 
ing company. Baranoff established trading- 
posts in various places, and settled at Sitka, 
where you can see the ruins of the splendid 
castle he built. The Russians also sent mission¬ 
aries to convert the Indians to the Greek 
Church, which is the church of Russia. The 
Indians, however, never learned to care for the 
Russians, and often were cruelly treated by 
them. The Russians, however, tried to do 
something for their education, and established 


52 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 

several schools. One as early as 1775, on Ka¬ 
diak Island, had thirty pupils, who studied 
arithmetic, reading, navigation, and four of the 
mechanical trades, and this is a better record 
than the American purchasers can show, I am 
sorry to say. 

“ One of the recent travellers 1 in Alaska 
says that he met in the country * American citi¬ 
zens who never in their lives heard a prayer for 
the President of the United States, nor of the 
Fourth of July, nor the name of the capital of 
the nation, but who have been taught to pray 
for the Emperor of Russia, to celebrate his 
birthday, and to commemorate the victories of 
ancient Greece.’ In March, 1867, the Russians 
sold Alaska to the United States for $7,200,- 
000 in gold. It was bought for a song almost, 
when we consider the immense amount of 
money made for the government by the seal 

1 Dr. Sheldon Jackson, General Agent of Education in 
the Territory. 


A Monster of the Deep 53 

fisheries, the cod and salmon industries, and the 
opening of the gold fields. The resources of the 
country are not half-known, and the govern¬ 
ment is beginning to see this. That is one of 
the reasons they have sent me here, with the 
other men, to find out what the earth holds for 
those who do not know how to look for its 
treasures. Gold is not the best thing the earth 
produces. There is land in Alaska little known 
full of coal and other useful minerals. Other 
land is covered with magnificent timber which 
could be shipped to all parts of the world. 
There are pasture-lands where stock will fatten 
like pigs without any other feeding; there are 
fertile soils which will raise almost any crops, 
and there are intelligent Indians who can be 
taught to work and be useful members of soci¬ 
ety. I do not mean dragged off to the United 
States to learn things they could never use in 
their home lives, but who should be educated 


54 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 

here to make the best of their talents in their 
home surroundings. 

“ That is one crying shame to our govern¬ 
ment, that they have neglected the Alaskan citi¬ 
zens. Forty years have been wasted, but we 
are beginning to wake up now, and twenty 
years more will see the Indians of Kalitan’s gen¬ 
eration industrious men and women, not only 
clever hunters and fishermen, but lumbermen, 
coopers, furniture makers, farmers, miners, and 
stock-raisers.” 

At this moment their quiet conversation was 
interrupted by a wild shout from the shore, 
and, springing to their feet, they saw Chetwoof 
gesticulating wildly and shouting to the Tyee, 
who had been mending his canoe by the river- 
bank. Kalitan dropped everything and ran 
without a word, scudding like the arrow from 
which he took his name. Before Ted could 
follow or ask what was the matter, from the 
ocean a huge body rose ten feet out of the water, 


A Monster of the Deep 55 

spouting jets of spray twenty feet into the air, 
the sun striking his sides and turning them to 
glistening silver. Then it fell back, the waters 
churning into frothy foam for a mile around. 

“ It’s a whale, Ted, sure as you live. Luck 
certainly is coming your way,” said his father; 
but, at the word “ whale,” Ted had started 
after Kalitan, losing no time in getting to the 
scene of action as fast as possible. 

“ Watch the Tvee! ” called Kalitan over his 
shoulder, as both boys ran down to the water’s 
edge. 

The old chief was launching his kiak into 
the seething waters, and to Ted it seemed in¬ 
credible that he meant to go in that frail bark 
in pursuit of the mighty monster. The old 
man’s face, however, was as calm as though 
starting on a pleasure-trip in peaceful waters, 
and Ted watched in breathless admiration to 
see what would happen next. 

Klake paddled swiftly out to sea, drawing 


56 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 


as near as he dared to where the huge monster 
splashed idly up and down like a great puppy 
at play. He stopped the kiak and watched; 
then poised his spear and threw it, and so swift 
and graceful was his gesture that Ted exclaimed 
in amazement. 

“ Tyee Klake best harpoon-thrower of all the 
Thlinkits,” said Kalitan, proudly. “Watch!” 

Ted needed no such instructions. His keen 
eyes passed from fish to man and back again, 
and no movement of the Tyee escaped him. 

The instant the harpoon was thrown, the 
Tyee paddled furiously away, for when a har¬ 
poon strikes a whale, he is likely to lash vio¬ 
lently with his tail, and may destroy his enemy, 
and this is a moment of terrible danger to the 
harpooner. But the whale was too much aston¬ 
ished to fight, and, with a terrific splash, he 
dived deep, deep into the water, to get rid of 
that stinging thing in his side, in the cold green 
waters below. 


A Monster of the Deep 57 

The Tyee waited, his grim face tense and 
earnest. It might have been fifteen minutes, 
for whales often stay under water for twenty 
minutes before coming to the surface to breathe, 
but to Kalitan and Ted it seemed an hour. 

Then the spray dashed high into the air 
again, and the instant the huge body appeared, 
Klake drew near, and away went another sting¬ 
ing lance again, swift and, oh! so sure of aim. 
This time the whale struck out wildly, and Kali- 
tan held his breath, while Ted gasped at the 
Tyee’s danger, for his kiak rocked like a shell 
and then was quite hidden from their sight by 
the spray which was dashed heavenward like 
clouds of white smoke. 

Once more the creature dived, and this time 
he stayed down only a few minutes, and, when 
he came up, blood spouted into the air and dyed 
the sea crimson, and Kalitan exclaimed: 

“ Pierced his lungs! Now he must die.” 

There was one more bright, glancing weapon 


58 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 

flying through the air, and Ted noticed attached 
to it by a thong a curious-looking bulb, and 
asked Kalitan: 

“ What is on that lance? ” 

“ Sealskin buoy,” said Kalitan. “ We make 
the bag and blow it up, tie it to the harpoon, 
and when the lance sticks into the whale, the 
buoy makes it very hard for him to dive. After 
awhile he dies and drifts ashore.” 

The waters about the whale were growing 
red, and the carcass seemed drifting out to sea, 
and at last the Tyee seemed satisfied. He sent 
a last look toward the huge body, then turned 
his kiak toward the watchers on the banks. 

“ If it only comes to shore,” said Kalitan. 

“ What will you do with it? ” asked Ted. 

“ Oh, there are lots of things we can do with 
a whale,” said Kalitan. “ The blubber is the 
best thing to eat in all the world. Then we use 
the oil in a bowl with a bit of pith in it to light 
our huts. The bones are all useful in building 


A Monster of the Deep 59 

our houses. Whales were once bears, but they 
played too much on the shore and ran away to 
sea, so they wore off all their fur on the rocks, 
and had their feet nibbled off by the fishes.” 

“ Well, this one didn’t have his tail nibbled 
off at any rate,” laughed Ted. “ I saw it flap 
at the Tyee, and thought that was the last of 
him, sure.” 

“ Tyee much big chief,” said Kalitan, and 
just then the old man’s kiak drew near them, 
and he stepped ashore as calmly as though he 
had not just been through so exciting a scene 
with a mighty monster of the deep. 


CHAPTER VI 


THE ISLAND HOME OF KALITAN 

Swift and even were the strokes of the pad¬ 
dles as the canoes sped over the water toward 
Kalitan’s island home. Ted was so excited that 
he could hardly sit still, and Tyee Klake gave 
him a warning glance and a muttered “ Koole- 
tchika.” 1 

The day before a big canoe had come to the 
camp, the paddlers bearing messages for the 
Tyee, and he had had a long conversation with 
Mr. Strong. The result was astonishing to 
Teddy, for his father told him that he was to 
go for a month to the island with Kalitan. 
This delighted him greatly, but he was a little 

1 “ Dangerous channel.” 

60 


The Island Home of Kalitan 61 

frightened when he found that his father was 
to stay behind. 

“ It’s just this way, son,” Mr. Strong ex¬ 
plained to him. “ I’m here in government em¬ 
ploy, taking government pay to do government 
work. I must do it and do it well in the short¬ 
est time possible. You will have a far better 
time on the island with Kalitan than you could 
possibly have loafing around the camp here. 
You couldn’t go to many places where I am 
going, and, if my mind is easy about you, I can 
take Chetwoof and do my work in half the 
time. I’ll come to the island in three or four 
weeks, and we’ll take a week’s vacation to¬ 
gether, and then we’ll hit the trail for the gold¬ 
fields. Are you satisfied with this arrange¬ 
ment? ” 

“ Yes, sir.” Ted’s tone was dubious, but 
his face soon cleared up. “ A month won’t be 
very long, father.” 

“ No, I’ll wager you’ll be sorry to leave when 


62 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 


I come for you. Try and not make any trouble. 
Of course Indian ways are not ours, but you’ll 
get used to it all and enjoy it. It’s a chance 
most boys would be crazy over, and you’ll have 
tales to tell when you get home to make your 
playmates envy you. I’m glad I have a son 
I can trust to keep straight when he is out of 
my sight,” and he laid his hand affectionately 
on the boy’s shoulder. Ted looked his father 
squarely in the eye, but gave only a little nod 
in answer, then he laughed his clear, ringing 
laugh. 

“Wouldn’t mother have spasms!” he ex¬ 
claimed. Mr. Strong laughed too, but said: 

“ You’ll be just as well off tumbling around 
with Kalitan as falling off a glacier or two, as 
you would be certain to do if you were with 
me. 

Teddy felt a little blue when he said good¬ 
bye to his father, but Kalitan quickly dispelled 
his gloom by a great piece of news. 


The Island Home of Kalitan 63 

“ Great time on island,” he said, as the canoe 
glided toward the dim outline of land to which 
Ted’s thoughts had so often turned. “ Tyee’s 
whale came ashore. We go to see him cut 
up. 

“Hurrah!” cried Ted, delighted. “To 
think I shall see all that! What else will we 
do, Kalitan?” 

“ Hunt, fish, hear old Kala-kash stories. See 
berry dance if you stay long enough, perhaps a 
potlatch; do many things,” said the Indian. 

One of the Indian paddlers said something 
to Kalitan, and he laughed a little, and Ted 
asked, curiously: “What did he say?” 

“ Said Kalitan Tenas learned to talk as much 
as a Boston boy,” said Kalitan, laughing heart¬ 
ily, and Ted laughed, too. 

The canoes were nearing the shore of a 
wooded island, and Ted saw a fringe of trees 
and some native houses clustered picturesquely 
against them at the crest of a small hill which 


64 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 

sloped down to the water’s edge, where stood a 
group of people awaiting the canoes. 

“ My home,” said Kalitan, pointing to the 
largest house, “ my people.” There was a 
great deal of pride in his tone and look, and 
he received a warm welcome as the canoes 
touched land and their occupants sprang on 
shore. The boys crowded around the young 
Indian and chattered and gesticulated toward 
Ted, while a bright-looking little Malamute 
sprang upon Kalitan and nearly knocked him 
down, covering his face with eager puppy 
kisses. 

The girls were less boisterous, and regarded 
Teddy with shy curiosity. Some of them were 
quite pretty, and the babies were as cunning as 
the puppies. They barked every time the dogs 
did, in a funny, hoarse little way, and, indeed, 
Alaskan babies learn to bark long before they 
learn to talk. 

The Tyee’s wife received Teddy kindly, and 


The Island Home of Kalitan 65 

he soon found himself quite at home among 
these hospitable people, who seemed always 
friendly and natural. Nearly all spoke some 
English, and he rapidly added to his store of 
Chinook, so that he had no trouble in making 
himself understood or in understanding. Of 
course he missed his father, but he had little time 
to be lonely. Life in the village was anything 
but uneventful. 

At first there was the whale to be attended 
to, and all the village turned out for that. The 
huge creature had drifted ashore on the farther 
side of the island, and Ted was much interested 
in seeing him gradually disposed of. Great 
masses of blubber were stripped from the sides 
to be used later both for food and fuel, the 
whalebone was carefully secured to be sold to 
the traders, and it seemed to Ted that there 
was not one thing in that vast carcass for which 
the Indians did not have some-use. 

Ted soon tired of watching the many things 


66 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 


done with the whale, but there was plenty to do 
and see in the village. 

The village houses were all alike. There 
was one large room in which the people cooked, 
ate, and slept. The girls had blankets strung 
across one corner, behind which were their beds. 
Teddy was given one also for his corner of the 
great room in the Tyee’s house. 

He learned to eat the food and to like it very 
much. There was dried fish, herons’ eggs, ber¬ 
ries, or those put up in seal oil, which is ob¬ 
tained by frying the fat out of the blubber of 
the seal. The Alaskans use this oil in nearly all 
their cooking, and are very fond of it. Ted 
ate also dried seaweed, chopped and boiled in 
seal oil, which tasted very much like boiled and 
salted leather, but he liked it very well. Indeed 
he grew so strong and well, out-of-doors all day 
in the clear air and bright sunshine of the Alas¬ 
kan June, that he could eat anything and tramp 
all day without being too tired to sleep like a 


The Island Home of Kalitan 67 

top all night, and wake ready for a new day 
with a zest he never felt at home. 

Fresh fish were plentiful. The boys caught 
salmon, smelts, and whitefish, and many were 
dried for the coming winter, while clams, gum- 
boots, sea-cucumbers, and devil-fish, found on 
the rocks of the shore, were every-day diet. 

Kalitan’s sister and Ted became great friends. 
She was older than Kalitan, and, though only 
fifteen, was soon to be married to Tah-ge-ah, 
a fine young Indian who was ready to pay high 
for her, which was not strange, for she was 
both pretty and sweet. 

“ At the next full moon,” said Kalitan, 
“ there will be a potlatch, and Tanana will be 
sold to Tah-ge-ah. He says he will give four 
hundred blankets for her, and my uncle is well 
pleased. Many only pay ten blankets for a 
wife, but of course we would not sell my sister 
for that. She is of high caste, chief’s daughter, 


68 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 

niece, and sister,” the boy spoke proudly, and 
Ted answered: 

“ She's so pretty, too. She’s not like the 
Indian girls I saw at Wrangel and Juneau. 
Why, there the women sat around as dirty as 
dogs on the sidewalk, and didn’t seem to care 
how they looked. They had baskets to sell, 
and were too lazy to care whether any one 
bought them or not. They weren’t a bit like 
Tanana. She’s as pretty as a Japanese.” 

Kalitan smiled, well pleased, and Ted added, 
“ I guess the Thlinkits must be the best Indians 
in Alaska.” 

Kalitan laughed outright at this. 

“ Thlinkits pretty good,” he said. “ Ta¬ 
nana good girl. She learned much good at 
the mission school, marry Tah-ge-ah, and 
make people better. She can weave blankets, 
make fine baskets, and keep house like a white 
girl.” 


The Island Home of Kalitan 



“ She’s all right,” said Ted. “ But, Kalitan, 
what is a potlatch? ” 

“ Potlatch is a good-will feast,” said his 
friend. “ Very fine thing, but white men do 
not like. Say Indian feasts are all bad. Why 
is it bad when an Indian gives away all his goods 
for others? That is what a great potlatch is. 
When white men give us whiskey and it is 
drunk too much, then it is very bad. But Tyee 
will not have that for Tanana’s feast. We will 
drink only quass, 1 as my people made it before 
they learned evil drinks and fire-water, which 
make them crazy.” 

“ I guess Tyee Klake was right when he said 
all men were alike,” said Ted, sagely. “ It 
seems to me that there are good and bad ones 
in all countries. It’s a pity you have had such 


1 Quass is a native drink, harmless and acid, made with 
rye and water fermented. The bad Indians mix it with 
sugar, flour, dried apples, and hops, and make a terribly intoxi¬ 
cating drink. 


70 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 

bad white ones here in Alaska, but I guess you 
have had good ones, too.” 

“ Plenty good, plenty bad, Thlinkit men and 
Boston men,” said Kalitan, “ all same.” 


CHAPTER VII 

TWILIGHT TALES AND TOTEMS 

“ Once a small girl child went by night to 
bring water. In the skies above she saw the 
Moon shining brightly, pale and placid, and she 
put forth her tongue at it, which was an evil 
thing, for the Moon is old, and a Thlinkit child 
should show respect for age. So the Moon 
would not endure so rude a thing from a girl 
child, and it came down from the sky and took 
her thither. She cried out in fear and caught at 
the long grass to keep herself from going up, 
but the Moon was strong and took her with 
her water-bucket and her bunch of grass, and 
she never came back. Her mother wept for 
her, but her father said: ‘Cease. We have 


71 


72 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 

other girl children; she is now wedded to the 
Moon; to him we need not give a potlatch.’ 

“ You may see her still, if you will look at 
the Moon, there, grass in one hand, bucket in 
the other, and when the new Moon tips to one 
side and the water spills from the clouds and 
it is the months of rain, it is the bad Moon 
maiden tipping over her water-bucket upon the 
earth. No Thlinkit child would dare ever to 
put her tongue forth at the Moon, for fear of 
a like fate to that of Squi-ance, the Moon 
maiden.” 

Tanana’s voice was soft and low, and she 
looked very pretty as she sat in the moonlight 
at the door of the hut and told Kalitan and 
Ted quaint old stories. Ted was delighted 
with her tales, and begged for another and yet 
another, and Tanana told the quaint story of 
Kagamil. 

“ A mighty toyon 1 dwelt on the island 


1 Chieftain. 


Twilight Tales and Totems 73 

of Kagamil. By name he was Kat-haya-koo- 
chat, and he was of great strength and much 
to be feared. He had long had a death feud 
with people of the next totem, but the bold 
warrior Yakaga, chieftain of the tribe, married 
the toyon’s daughter, and there was no more 
feud. Zampa was the son of Kat-haya-koochat, 
and his pride. He built for this son a fine 
bidarka, 1 and the boy launched it on the sea. 
His father watched him sail and called him 
to return, lest evil befall. But Zampa heard not 
his father’s voice and pursued diving birds, 2 
and, lo! he was far from land and the dark 
fell. He sailed to the nearest shore and beheld 
the village of Yakaga, where the people of 
his sister’s husband made him welcome, though 
Yakaga was not within his hut. There was 
feasting and merry-making, and, according to 
their custom, he, the stranger, was given a chief¬ 
tain’s daughter to wife, and her name was Kitt- 

1 Canoe. 2 Ducks. 


74 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 

a-youx; and Zampa loved her and she him, 
and he returned not home. But Kitt-a-youx’s 
father liked him not, and treated him with 
rudeness because of the old enmity with his 
Tyee father, so Zampa said to Kitt-a-youx: 
‘ Let us go hence. We cannot be happy here. 
Let us go from your father, who is unfriendly 
to me, and seek the barrabora of my father, 
the mighty chief, that happiness may come upon 
us,’ and Kitt-a-youx said: ‘ What my lord says 
is well.’ 

“ Then Zampa placed her in his canoe, and 
alone beneath the stars they sailed and it was 
well, and Zampa’s arm was strong at his pad¬ 
dle. But, lo! they heard another paddle, and 
one came after them, and soon arrows flew 
about them, arrows swift and cruel, and one 
struck his paddle from his hand and his canoe 
was overturned. The pursuer came and placed 
Kitt-a-youx in his canoe, seeking, too, for 
Zampa, but, alas! Zampa was drowned. And 


Twilight Tales and Totems 75 

when his pursuer dragged his body to the sur¬ 
face, he gave a mighty cry, for, lo 1 it was his 
brother-in-law whom he had pursued, for he 
was Yakaga. Then fearing the terrible rage 
of Zampa’s father, he dared not return with 
the body, so he left it with the overturned canoe 
in the kelp and weeds. Kitt-a-youx he bore 
with him to his own island. There she was sad 
as the sea-gull’s scream, for the lord she loved 
was dead. And her father gave her to another 
toyon, who was cruel to her, and her life was 
as a slave’s, and she loathed her life until 
Zampa’s child was born to her, and for it she 
lived. Alas, it was a girl child and her hus¬ 
band hated it, and Kitt-a-youx saw nothing for 
it but to be sold as a slave as was she herself. 
And she looked by day and by night at the sea, 
and its cold, cold waves seemed warmer to her 
than the arms of men. 1 With my girl child I 
shall go hence,’ she whispered to herself, ‘ and 
the Great Unknown Spirit will be kind.’ 


y6 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 

“ So by night she stole away in a canoe and 
steered to sea, ere she knew where she was, 
reaching the seaweeds where she had journeyed 
with her young husband. The morning broke, 
and she saw the weeds and the kelp where her 
lover had gone from her sight, and, with a glad 
sigh, she clasped Zampa’s child to her breast 
and sank down among the weeds where he had 
died. So her tired spirit was at rest, for a 
woman is happier who dies with him she 
loves. 

“ Now Zampa’s father had found his boy’s 
body and mourned over it, and buried it in a 
mighty cave, the which he had once made for 
his furs and stores. With it he placed bows 
and arrows and many valuables in respect for 
the dead. And Zampa’s sister, going to his 
funeral feast, fell upon a stone with her child, 
so that both were killed. Then broke the old 
chief’s heart. Beside her brother he laid her 
in the cave, and gave orders that he himself 


Twilight Tales and Totems 77 

should be placed there as well, when grief 
should have made way with him. Then he died 
of sorrow for his children, and his people in¬ 
terred him in his burial cave, and with him they 
put much wealth and blankets and weapons. 

“ When, therefore, the people of his tribe 
found the bodies of Kitt-a-youx and her child 
among the kelp, having heard of her love for 
Zampa, they bore them to the same cave, and, 
wrapping them in furs, they placed Kitt-a-youx 
beside her beloved husband, and in her burial 
she found her home and felt the kindness of the 
Great Spirit. This, then, is the story of the 
burial cave of Kagamil, and since that day no 
man dwelt upon the island, and it is known as 
the ‘ island of the dead.’ ” 

“ I’d like to see it, I can tell you,” said Ted. 
“ Are there any burial caves around here? ” 

“ The Thlinkits do not bury in caves,” said 
Tanana. “ We used to burn our dead, but 
often we place them in totem-poles.” 


78 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 


“ I thought those great poles by your doors 
were totems,” said Ted, puzzled. 

“ Yes,” said the girl. “ They are caste to¬ 
tems, and all who are of any rank have them. 
As we belong to the Raven, or Bear, or Eagle 
clan, we have the carved poles to show our 
rank, but the totem of the dead is quite differ¬ 
ent. It does not stand beside the door, but far 
away. It is alone, as the soul of the dead in 
whose honour it is made. It is but little carved. 
A square hole is cut at the back of the pole, 
and the body of the dead, wrapped in a matting 
of cedar bark, is placed within, a board being 
nailed so that the body will not fall to the 
ground. A potlatch is given, and food from 
the feast is put in the fire for the dead per¬ 
son.” 

“ It seems queer to put weapons and blankets 
and things to eat on people’s graves,” said Ted. 
“ Why do they do it? ” 

“ Of the dead we know nothing,” said Ta- 


Twilight Tales and Totems 79 

nana. “ Perhaps the warrior spirit wishes his 
arrows in the Land of the Great Unknown.” 

“ Yes, but he can’t come back for them,” 
persisted Ted. 

“ At Wrangel, Boston man put flowers on 
his girl’s grave,” said Kalitan, drily. “ She 
come back and smell posy? ” 

Having no answer ready, Ted changed the 
subject and asked: 

“ Why do you have the raven at the top of 
your totem pole? ” 

“ Indian cannot marry same totem,” said 
Kalitan. “ My father was eagle totem, my 
mother was raven totem. He carve her totem 
at the top of the pole, then his totem and those 
of the family are carved below. The greater 
the family the taller the totem.” 

“ How do you get these totems? ” demanded 
Ted. 

“ Clan totems we take from our parents, but 
a man may choose his own totem. Before he 


80 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 

becomes a man he must go alone into the forest 
to fast, and there he chooses his totem, and he 
is brother to that animal all his life, and may 
not kill it. When he comes forth, he may take 
part in all the ceremonies of his tribe.” 

“ Why, it is something like knighthood and 
the vigil at arms and escutcheons, and all those 
Round-Table things,” exclaimed Ted, in de¬ 
light, for he dearly loved the stirring tales of 
King Arthur and his knights and the doughty 
deeds of Camelot. 

“ Tell us about that,” said Kalitan, so Ted 
told them many tales in the moonlight, as they 
sat beneath the shadows of the quaint and curi¬ 
ous totem-poles of Kalitan’s tribe. 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE BERRY DANCE 

Teddy’s month upon the island stretched 
out into two. His father came and went, find¬ 
ing the boy so happy and well that he left him 
with an easy mind. Ted’s fair skin was tanned 
to a warm brown, and, clad in Indian clothes, 
save for his aureole of copper-coloured hair, 
so strong a contrast to the straight black locks 
of his Indian brothers, he could hardly be told 
from one of the island lads who roamed all 
day by wood and shore. They called him 
“ Yakso pil chicamin,” 1 and all the village 
liked him. 

Tanana’s marriage-feast was held, and she 
and Tah-ge-ah went to housekeeping in a little 

1 Copper hair. 

81 


82 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 


hut, where the one room was as clean and neat 
as could be, and not a bit like the dirty rooms 
of some of the natives. Tanana spent all her 
spare time weaving beautiful baskets, for her 
slim fingers were very skilful. Some of the 
baskets which she made out of the inner bark 
of the willow-tree were woven so closely that 
they would hold water, and Teddy never tired 
of watching her weave the gay colours in and 
out, nor of seeing the wonderful patterns grow. 
Tahgeah would take them to the mainland 
when she had enough made, and sell them to 
the travellers from the States. Meantime Tah- 
ge-ah himself was very, very busy carving the 
totem-pole for his new home, for Tanana was 
a chieftain’s daughter, and he, too, was of high 
caste, and their totem must be carved and stand 
one hundred feet high beside their door, lest 
they be reproached. 

Ted also enjoyed seeing old Kala-kash carve, 
for he was the finest carver among the Indians, 


The Berry Dance 83 

and it was wonderful to see him cut strange 
figures out of bone, wood, horn, fish-bones, and 
anything his gnarled old fingers could get hold 
of, and he would carve grasshoppers, bears, 
minnows, whales, sea-gulls, babies, or idols. 
He made, too, a canoe for Ted, a real Alaskan 
dugout, shaping the shell from a log and mak¬ 
ing it soft by steam, filling the hole with water 
and throwing in red-hot stones. The wood was 
then left to season, and Ted could hardly wait 
patiently until sun and wind and rain had made 
his precious craft seaworthy. Then it was 
painted with paint made by rubbing a certain 
rock over the surface of a coarse stone and the 
powder mixed with oil or water. 

At last it was done, a shapely thing, more 
beautiful in Ted’s eyes than any launch or yacht 
he had ever seen at home. His canoe had a 
carved stern and a sharp prow which came out 
of the water, and which had carved upon it a 
fine eagle. Kalakash had not asked Ted what 


84 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 

his totem was, but supposing that the American 
eagle on the buttons of the boy’s coat was his 
emblem, had carved the rampant bird upon the 
canoe as the boy’s totem. Ted learned to pad¬ 
dle and to fish, never so well as Kalitan, of 
course, for he was born to it, but still he did 
very well, and enjoyed it hugely. 

Happily waned the summer days, and then 
came the time of the berry dance, which Kali- 
tan had spoken of so often that Ted was very 
anxious to see it 

The salmon-berry was fully ripe, a large and 
luscious berry, found in two colours, yellow and 
dark red. Besides these there were other small 
berries, maruskins, like the New England dew¬ 
berries, huckleberries, and whortleberries. 

“ We have five kinds of berries on our 
island,” said Kalitan, “ All good. The birds, 
flying from the mainland, first brought the 
seeds, and our berries grow larger than almost 
any place in Alaska.” 


The Berry Dance 


85 

“ They’re certainly good,” said Ted, his 
mouth full as he spoke. “ These salmon-ber¬ 
ries are a kind of a half-way between our black¬ 
berries and strawberries. I never saw anything 
prettier than the way the red and yellow berries 
grow so thick on the same bush — ” 

“ There come the canoes! ” interrupted Kali- 
tan, and the two boys ran down to the water’s 
edge, eager to be the first to greet the visitors. 
Tyee Klake was giving a feast to the people 
of the neighbouring islands, and a dozen canoes 
glided over the water from different directions. 
The canoes were all gaily decorated, and they 
came swiftly onward to the weird chant of the 
paddlers, which the breeze wafted to the lis¬ 
teners’ ears in a monotonous melody. 

Every one in the village had been astir since 
daybreak, preparing for the great event. Par¬ 
allel lines had been strung from the chief’s 
house to the shore, and from these were hung 
gay blankets, pieces of bright calico, and fes- 


86 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 

toons of leaves and flowers. As the canoes 
landed their occupants, the dancers thronged 
to welcome their guests. The great drum 
sounded its loud note, and the dancers, arrayed 
in wonderful blankets woven in all manner of 
fanciful designs and trimmed with long woollen 
fringes, swayed back and forth, up and down, 
to and fro, in a very graceful manner, keeping 
time to the music. 

In the centre of the largest canoe stood the 
Tyee of a neighbouring island, a tall Indian, 
dressed in a superb blanket with fringe a foot 
long, fringed leggins and moccasins of walrus 
hide, and the chief’s hat to show his rank. It 
was a peculiar head-dress half a foot high, 
trimmed in down and feathers. 

The Tyee, in perfect time to the music, 
swayed back and forth, never ceasing for a 
moment, shaking his head so that the down 
was wafted in a snowy cloud all over him. 

As the canoes reached the shallows, the shore 


The Berry. Dance 87 

Indians dashed into the water to draw them 
up to land, and the company was joyously re¬ 
ceived. Teddy was delighted, for in one of 
the canoes was his father, whom he had not 
seen for several weeks. After the greetings 
were over, the dancers arranged themselves in 
opposite lines, men on one side, women on the 
other, and swayed their bodies while the drum 
kept up its unceasing tum-tum-tum. 

“ It’s a little bit like square dances at home,” 
said Ted. “ It’s ever so pretty, isn’t it? First 
they sway to the right, then to the left, over 
and over and over; then they bend their bodies 
forward and backward without bending their 
knees, then sway again, and bend to one side 
and then the other, singing all the time. Isn’t 
it odd, father? ” 

“ It certainly is, but it’s very graceful,” said 
Mr. Strong. “ Some of the girls are quite 
pretty, gentle-looking creatures, but the older 
women are ugly.” 


88 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 


“ The very old women look like the mum¬ 
mies in the museum at home,” said Ted. 
“ There’s one old woman, over a hundred years 
old, whose skin is like a piece of parchment, 
and she wears the hideous lip-button which 
most of the Thlinkits have stopped using. Kali- 
tan says all the women used to wear them. The 
girls used to make a cut in their chins between 
the lip and the chin, and put in a piece of wood, 
changing it every few days for a piece a little 
larger until the opening was stretched like a 
second mouth. When they grew up, a wooden 
button like the bowl of a spoon was set in the 
hole and constantly enlarged. The largest I 
have seen was three inches long. Isn’t it a 
curious idea, father?” 

“ It certainly is, but there is no telling what 
women will admire. A Chinese lady binds her 
feet, and an American her waist; a Maori 
woman slits her nose, and an English belle 
pierces her ears. It’s on the same principle that 


The Berry Dance 89 

your Thlinkit friends slit their chins for the lip- 
button.” 

“ I’m mighty glad they don’t do it now, for 
Tanana’s as pretty as a pink, and it would be 
a shame to spoil her face that way,” said Ted. 
“ The dancing has stopped, father; let’s see 
what they’ll do next. There comes Kalitan.” 

A feast of berries was to follow the dance, 
and Kalitan led Mr. Strong and Ted to the 
chief’s house, which was gaily decorated with 
blankets and bits of bright cloth. A table cov¬ 
ered with a cloth was laid around three sides 
of the room, and on this was spread hardtack 
and huge bowls of berries of different colours. 
These were beaten up with sugar into a foamy 
mixture, pink, purple, and yellow, according 
to the colour of the berries, which tasted good 
and looked pretty. 

Ted and Kalitan had helped gather the ber¬ 
ries, and their appetites were quite of the best. 
Mr. Strong smiled to see how the once fussy 


90 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 

little gentleman helped himself with a right 
good-will to the Indian dainties of his friends. 

Many pieces of goods had been provided for 
the potlatch, and these were given away, given 
and received with dignified politeness. There 
was laughing and merriment with the feast, 
and when it was all over, the canoes floated 
away as they had come, into the sunset, which 
gilded all the sea to rosy, golden beauty. 

Ted’s share of the potlatch was a beautiful 
blanket of Tanana’s weaving, and he was de¬ 
lighted beyond measure. 

“ You’re a lucky boy, Ted,” said his father. 
“ People pay as high as sixty-five dollars for 
an Alaskan blanket, and not always a perfect 
one at that. Many of the Indians are using 
dyed yarns to weave them, but yours is the 
genuine article, made from white goat’s wool, 
long and soft, and dyed only in the native reds 
and blacks. We shall have to do something 
nice for Tanana when you leave.” 


The Berry Dance 


9 1 

“ I’d like to give her something, and Kali- 
tan, too.” Ted’s face looked very grave. 
“ When do I have to go, father? ” 

“ Right away, I’m afraid,” was the reply. 
“ I’ve let you stay as long as possible, and now 
we must start for our northern trip, if you are 
to see anything at all of mines and Esquimos 
before we start home. The mail-steamer passes 
Nuchek day after to-morrow, and we must go 
over there in time to take it.” 

“ Yes, sir,” said Ted, forlornly. He wanted 
to see the mines and all the wonderful things 
of the far north, but he hated to leave his In¬ 
dian friends. 

“What’s the trouble, Ted?” His father 
laid his hand on his shoulder, disliking to see 
the bright face so clouded. 

“ I was only thinking of Kalitan,” said 
Ted. 

“ Suppose we take Kalitan with us,” said 
Mr. Strong. 


92 


Our Little Alaskan Cousin 


“ Oh, daddy, could we really? ” Ted 
jumped in excitement. 

“ I’ll ask the Tyee if he will lend him to us 
for a month,” said Mr. Strong, and in a few 
minutes it was decided, and Ted, with one great 
bear’s hug to thank his father, rushed off to 
find his friend and tell him the glorious news. 


CHAPTER IX 


ON THE WAY TO NOME 

Well, boys, we’re off for a long sail, and 
I’m afraid you will be rather tired with the 
steamer before you are done with her,” said 
Mr. Strong. They had boarded the mail- 
steamer late the night before, and, going right 
to bed, had wakened early next day and rushed 
on deck to find the August sun shining in bril¬ 
liant beauty, the islands quite out of sight, and 
nought but sea and sky around and above them. 

“Oh, I don’t know; we’ll find something 
to do,” said Teddy. “ You’ll have to tell us 
lots about the places we pass, and, if there aren’t 
any other boys on board, Kalitan and I will 
be together. What’s the first place we stop? ” 
“ We passed the Kenai Peninsula in the 


93 


Our Little Alaskan Cousin 


94 

night. I wish you could have caught a glimpse 
of some of the waterfalls, volcanoes, and gla¬ 
ciers. They are as fine as any in Alaska,” said 
Mr. Strong. “ Our next stop will be Kadiak 
Island.” 

“ Kadiak Island was once near the main¬ 
land,” said Kalitan. “ There was only the nar¬ 
rowest passage of water, but a great Kenai 
otter tried to swim the pass, and was caught 
fast. He struggled so that he made it wider 
and wider, and at last pushed Kadiak way out 
to sea.” 

“ He must have been a whopper,” said Ted, 
“ to push it so far away. Is that the island? ” 

“ Yes,” said his father. “ There are no 
splendid forests on the island as there are on 
the mainland, but the grasses are superb, for the 
fog and rain here keeps them green as emerald.” 

“ What a queer canoe that Indian has! ” ex¬ 
claimed Ted. “ It isn’t a bit like yours, Kali- 


On the Way to Nome 95 

“ It is bidarka,” said Kalitan. “ Kadiak 
people make canoe out of walrus hide. They 
stretch it over frames of driftwood. It holds 
two people. They sit in small hatch with apron 
all around their bodies, and the bidarka goes 
over the roughest sea and floats like a bladder. 
Big bidarka called an oomiak, and holds whole 
family.” 

“ Some one has called the bidarkas the ‘ Cos¬ 
sacks of the sea,’ ” said Mr. Strong. “ They 
skim along like swallows, and are as perfectly 
built as any vessel I ever saw.” 

“ What are those huge buildings on the small 
island?” asked Ted, as the steamer wound 
through the shallows. 

“ Ice-houses,” said his father. “ Before peo¬ 
ple learned to manufacture ice, immense car¬ 
goes were shipped from here to as far south 
as San Francisco.” 

“ It was fun to see them go fishing for ice 
from the steamer when we came up to Ska- 


96 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 

guay,” said Ted. “ The sailors went out in a 
boat, slipped a net around a block of ice and 
towed it to the side of the ship, then it was 
hitched to a derrick and swung on deck.” 

“ Huh! ” said Kalitan. “ What people want 
ice for stored up? Think they’d store sun¬ 
shine ! ” 

“If you could invent a way to do that, you 
could make a fortune, my boy,” said Mr. 
Strong, laughing. “ The next place of any 
interest is Karluk. It’s around on the other 
side of the island in Shelikoff Strait, and is 
famous for its salmon canneries. Nearly half 
of the entire salmon pack of Alaska comes from 
Kadiak Island, most of the fish coming from 
the Karluk River.” 

“ Very bad for Indians,” said Kalitan. 
“ Used to have plenty fish. Tyee Klake said 
salmon used to come up this river in shoal six¬ 
teen miles long, and now Boston men take them 
all.” 


On the Way to Nome 


97 

“ It does seem a pity that the Indians don’t 
even have a chance to earn their living in the 
canneries,” said Mr. Strong. “ The largest 
cannery in the world is at Karluk. There are 
thousands of men employed, and in one year 
over three million salmon were packed, yet with 
all this work for busy hands to do, the canneries 
employ Chinese, Greek, Portuguese, and Ameri¬ 
can workmen in preference to the Indians, 
bringing them by the shipload from San Fran- 

• ) i 

CISCO. 

“What other places do we pass?” asked 
Ted. 

“ A lot of very interesting ones, and I wish 
we could coast along, stopping wherever we felt 
like it,” said Mr. Strong. “ The Shumagin 
Islands are where Bering, the great discoverer 
and explorer, landed in 1741 to bury one of 
his crew. Codfish were found there, and Cap¬ 
tain Cook, in his ‘ Voyages and Discoveries,’ 
speaks of the same fish. There is a famous 


g8 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 

fishery there now called the Davidson Banks, 
and the codfishing fleet has its headquarters on 
Popoff Island. Millions of codfish are caught 
here every year. These islands are also a fa¬ 
vourite haunt of the sea otter. Belofsky, at the 
foot of Mt. Pavlofl, is the centre of the trade.” 

“What kind of fur is otter?” asked Ted, 
whose mind was so inquiring that his father 
often called him the “ living catechism.” 

“ It is the court fur of China and Russia, and 
at one time the common people were forbidden 
by law to wear it,” said Mr. Strong. “ It is a 
rich, purplish brown sprinkled with silver-tipped 
hairs, and the skins are very costly.” 

“ At one time any one could have otter,” said 
Kalitan. “ We hunted them with spears and 
bows and arrows. Now they are very few, and 
we find them only in dangerous spots, hiding 
on rocks or floating kelp. Sometimes the hunt¬ 
ers have to lie in hiding for days watching them. 
Only Indians can kill the otter. Boston men 



MOUNT SHISHALDIN 














On the Way to Nome 99 

can if they marry Indian women. That makes 
them Indian.” 

“ Rather puts otter at a discount and women 
at a premium,” laughed Mr. Strong. “ Now 
we pass along near the Alaska peninsula, past 
countless isles and islets, through the Fox 
Islands to Unalaska, and then into the Bering 
Sea. One of the most interesting things in this 
region is called the ‘ Pacific Ring of Fire,’ a 
chain of volcanoes which stretches along the 
coast. Often the passengers can see from the 
ships at night a strange red glow over the sky, 
and know that the fire mountains are burning. 
The most beautiful of these volcanoes is Mt. 
Shishaldin, nearly nine thousand feet high, and 
almost as perfect a cone in shape as Fuji Yama, 
which the Japanese love so much and call ‘ the 
Honourable Mountain.’ At Unalaska or Ilin- 
link, the ‘ curving beach,’ we stop. If we could 
stay over for awhile, there are a great many 
interesting things we could see; an old Greek 

L OF C. 


IOO 


Our Little Alaskan Cousin 


church and the government school are in the 
town, and Bogoslov’s volcano and the sea-lion 
rookeries are on the island of St. John, which 
rose right up out of the sea in 1796 after a day’s 
roaring and rumbling and thundering. In 1815 
there was a similar performance, and from time 
to time the island has grown larger ever since. 
One fine day in 1883 there was a great shower 
of ashes, and, when the clouds had rolled away, 
two peaks were seen where only one had been, 
separated by a sandy isthmus. This last was 
reduced to a fine thread by the earthquake of 
1891, and I don’t know what new freaks it 
may have developed by now. I know some 
friends of mine landed there not long ago and 
cooked eggs over the jets of steam which gush 
out of the mountainside. Did you ever hear of 
using a volcano for a cook-stove? ” 

“ Well, I should say not,” said Ted, amused. 
“ These Alaskan volcanoes are great things.” 

“ The one called Makushin has a crater filled 


On the Way to Nome 


IOI 


with snow in a part of which there is always a 
cloud of sulphurous smoke. That’s making 
extremes meet, isn’t it? ” 

“ Yehl 1 made many strange things,” said 
Kalitan, who had been taking in all this infor¬ 
mation even more eagerly than Teddy. “ He 
first dwelt on Nass River, and turned two blades 
of grass into the first man and woman. Then 
the Thlinkits grew and prospered, till darkness 
fell upon the earth. A Thlinkit stole the sun 
and hid it in a box, but Yehl found it and set 
it so high in the heavens that none could touch 
it. Then the Thlinkits grew and spread abroad. 
But a great flood came, and all were swept away 
save two, who tossed long upon the flood on a 
raft of logs until Yehl pitied, and carried them 
to Mt. Edgecomb, where they dwelt until the 
waters fell.” 

“ Old Kala-kash tells this story, and he says 

1 Yehl, embodied in the raven, is the Thlinkit Great 
Spirit. 


102 


Our Little Alaskan Cousin 


that one of these people, when very old, went 
down through the crater of the mountain, and, 
given long life by Yehl, stays there always to 
hold up the earth out of the water. But the 
other lives in the crater as the Thunder Bird, 
Hahtla, whose wing-flap is the thunder and 
whose glance is the lightning. The osprey is 
his totem, and his face glares in our blankets 
and totems.” 

“ I’ve wondered what that fierce bird was,” 
said Teddy, who was always quite carried away 
with Kalitan’s strange legends. 

“ Well, what else do we see on the way to 
Nome, father? ” 

“ The most remarkable thing happening in 
the Bering Sea is the seal industry, but I do not 
think we pass near enough to the islands to see 
any of that. You’d better run about and see 
the ship now,” and the boys needed no second 
permission. 

It was not many days before they knew 


On the Way to Nome 103 

everybody on board, from captain to deck 
hands, and were prime favourites with them 
all. Ted and Kalitan enjoyed every moment. 
There was always something new to see or hear, 
and ere they reached their journey’s end, they 
had heard all about seals and sealing, although 
the famous Pribylov Islands were too far to 
the west of the vessel’s route for them to see 
them. They sighted the United States revenue 
cutter which plies about the seal islands to keep 
off poachers, for no one is allowed to kill seals 
or to land on this government reservation ex¬ 
cept from government vessels. The scent of 
the rookeries, where millions of seals have been 
killed in the last hundred years, is noticed far 
out at sea, and often the barking of the animals 
can be heard by passing vessels. 

“Why is sealskin so valuable, father?” 
asked Ted. 

“ It has always been admired because it is so 
warm and soft,” replied Mr. Strong. “ All the 


104 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 

ladies fancy it, and it never seems to go out of 
fashion. There was a time, when the Pribylov 
Islands were first discovered, that sealskins were 
so plentiful that they sold in Alaska for a dollar 
apiece. Hunters killed so many, killing old and 
young, that soon there were scarcely any left, 
so a law was passed by the Russian government 
forbidding any killing for five years. Since the 
Americans have owned Alaska they have pro¬ 
tected the seals, allowing them to be killed only 
at certain times, and only male seals from two 
to four years old are killed. The Indians are 
always the killers, and are wonderfully swift and 
clever, never missing a blow and always killing 
instantly, so that there is almost no suffering.” 

“ How do they know where to find the 
seals? ” asked Ted. 

“ For half the year the seals swim about the 
sea, but in May they return to their favourite 
haunts. In these rookeries families of them 
herd on the rocks, the male staying at home 


On the Way to Nome 105 

with his funny little black puppies, while the 
mother swims about seeking food. The seals 
are very timid, and will rush into the water 
at the least strange noise. A story is told that 
the barking of a little pet dog belonging to a 
Russian at one of the rookeries lost him a hun¬ 
dred thousand dollars, for the seals took fright 
and scurried away before any one could say 
‘ Jack Robinson! ’ ” 

“ Rather an expensive pup! ” commented 
Ted. “ But what about the seals, daddy? n 

“ You seem to think I am an encyclopaedia 
on the seal question,” said his father. “ There 
is not much else to tell you.” 

“ How can they manage always to kill the 
right ones? ” demanded Ted. 

“ The gay bachelor seals herd together away 
from the rest and sleep at night on the rocks. 
Early in the morning the Aleuts slip in between 
them and the herd and drive them slowly to 
the killing-ground, where they are quickly killed 


106 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 

and skinned and the skins taken to the salting- 
house. The Indians use the flesh and blubber, 
and the climate is such that before another year 
the hollow bones are lost in the grass and 
earth.” 

“ What becomes of the skins after they are 
salted?” 

“ They are usually sent to London, where 
they are prepared for market. The work is all 
done by hand, which is one reason that they 
are so expensive. They are first worked in saw¬ 
dust, cleaned, scraped, washed, shaved, plucked, 
dyed with a hand-brush from eight to twelve 
times, washed again and freed from the least 
speck of grease by a last bath in hot sawdust 
or sand.” 

“ I don’t wonder a sealskin coat costs so 
much,” said Ted, “ if they have got to go 
through all that performance. I wish we could 
have seen the islands, but I’d hate to see the 
seals killed. It doesn’t seem like hunting just 


On the Way to Nome 107 

to knock them on the head. It’s too much like 
the stock-yards at home.” 

*“ Yes, but it’s a satisfaction to know that 
it’s done in the easiest possible way for the 
animals. 

“ What a lot you are learning way up here 
in Alaska, aren’t you, son? To-morrow we’ll be 
at Nome, and then your head will be so stuffed 
with mines and mining that you will forget all 
about everything else.” 

“ I don’t want to forget any of it,” said Ted. 
“ It’s all bully.” 


CHAPTER X 


IN THE GOLD COUNTRY 

A low, sandy beach, without a tree to break 
its level, rows of plain frame-houses, some tents 
and wooden shanties scattered about, the surf 
breaking over the shore in splendid foam, — 
this was Teddy’s first impression of Nome. 
They had sailed over from St. Michael’s to 
see the great gold-fields, and both the boys were 
full of eagerness to be on land. It seemed, 
however, as if their desires were not to be real¬ 
ized, for landing at Nome is a difficult matter. 

Nome is on the south shore of that part of 
Alaska known as Seward Peninsula, and it has 
no harbour. It is on the open seacoast and 
catches all the fierce storms that sweep north¬ 
ward over Bering Sea. Generally seacoast 

108 


In the Gold Country 109 

towns are built in certain spots because there 
is a harbour, but Nome was not really built, 
it “ jes’ growed,” for, w T hen gold was found 
there, the miners sat down to gather the harvest, 
caring nothing about a harbour. 

Ships cannot go within a mile of land, and 
passengers have to go ashore in small lighters. 
Sometimes when they arrive, they cannot go 
ashore at all, but have to wait several days, 
taking refuge behind a small island ten miles 
away, lest they drag their anchors and be dashed 
to pieces on the shore. 

There had been a tremendous storm at Nome 
the day before Ted arrived, and landing was 
more difficult than usual, but, impatient as the 
boys were, at last it seemed safe to venture, and 
the party left the steamer to be put on a rough 
barge, flat-bottomed and stout, which was 
hauled by cable to shore until it grounded on 
the sands. They were then put in a sort of 
wooden cage, let down by chains from a huge 


I io Our Little Alaskan Cousin 

wooden beam, and swung round in the air like 
the unloading cranes of a great city, over the 
surf to a high platform on the land. 

“ Well, this is a new way to land,” cried Ted, 
who had been rather quiet during the perform¬ 
ance, and his father thought a trifle fright¬ 
ened. “ It’s a sort of a balloon ascension, isn’t 
it?” 

“ It must be rather hard for the miners, who 
have been waiting weeks for their mail, when 
the boat can’t land her bags at all,” said Mr. 
Strong. “ That sometimes happens. From No¬ 
vember to May, Nome is cut off from the world 
by snow and ice. The only news they receive 
is by the monthly mail when it comes. 

“ Over at Kronstadt the Russians have ice¬ 
breaking boats which keep the Baltic clear 
enough of ice for navigation, and plow their 
way through ice fourteen feet thick for two 
hundred miles. The Nome miners are very 


In the Gold Country 


111 


anxious for the government to try this ice-boat 
service at Nome.” 

“ Why did people settle here in such a forlorn 
place?” asked Ted, as they made their way 
to the town, which they found anything but 
civilized. “ I like the Indian houses on the 
island better than this.” 

“ Your island is more picturesque,” said Mr. 
Strong, “ but people came here for what they 
could get. 

“In 1898 gold was discovered on Anvil 
Creek, which runs into Snake River, and this 
turned people’s eyes in the direction of Nome. 
Miners rushed here and set to work in the 
gulches inland, but it was not till the summer 
of 1899 that gold was found on the beach. A 
soldier from the barracks — you know this is 
part of a United States Military Reservation — 
found gold while digging a well near the beach, 
and an old miner took out $1,200 worth in 
twenty days. Then a perfect frenzy seized the 


112 


Our Little Alaskan Cousin 


people. They flocked to Nome from far and 
near; they camped on the beach in hundreds 
and staked their claims. Between one and two 
thousand men were at work on the beach at one 
time, yet so good-natured were they that no 
quarrels seem to have occurred. Doctors, law¬ 
yers, barkeeper:, and all dropped their business 
and went to rocking, as they call beach-mining.” 

“ Oh, dad, let’s hurry and go and see it,” 
cried Ted, as they hurried through their dinner 
at the hotel. “ I thought gold came out of deep 
mines like copper, and had to be melted out or 
something, but this seems to be different. Do 
they just walk along the beach and pick it up? 
I wish I could.” 

“ Well, it’s not quite so simple as that,” said 
Mr. Strong, laughing. “ We’ll go and see, and 
then you’ll understand,” and they went down 
the crooked streets to the sandy beach. 

Men were standing about talking and laugh¬ 
ing, others working hard. All manner of men 



“‘let’s watch those two men. they have evidently 


STAKED A CLAIM TOGETHER 


y yy 


















In the Gold Country 113 

were there scattered over the tundra / and Ted 
became interested in two who were working 
together in silence. 

“ What are they doing? ” he asked his father. 
“ I can’t see how they expect to get anything 
worth having out of this mess.” 

“ Beach-mining is quite different from any 
other,” said his father. “ Let’s watch those 
two men. They have evidently staked a claim 
together, which means that nobody but these 
two can work on the ground they have staked 
out, and that they must share all the gold they 
find. They came here to prospect, and evi¬ 
dently found a block of ground which suited 
them. They then dug a prospect hole down 
two to five feet until they struck ‘ bedrock,’ 
which happens to be clay around here. They 
passed through several layers of sand and 
gravel before reaching this, and these were care¬ 
fully examined to see how much gold they con- 
1 The name given to the boggy soil of the beach. 


114 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 

tained. Upon reaching a layer which seemed 
to be a good one, the gravel on top was stripped 
off and thrown aside and the ‘ pay streak ’ 
worked with the rocker.” 

“What is that?” asked Ted, who was all 
ears, while Kalitan was taking in everything 
with his sharp black eyes. 

“ That arrangement that looks like a square 
pan on a saw-buck is the rocker. The rockers 
usually have copper bottoms, and there is a 
great demand for sheet copper at Nome, but 
often there is not enough of it, and the miners 
have been known to cover them with silver 
coins. That man you are watching has silver 
dollars in his, about fifty, I should say. It seems 
extravagant, doesn’t it, but he’ll take out many 
times that amount if he has good luck.” 

The man, who had glanced up at them, 
smiled at that and said: 

“ And, if I don’t have luck, I’m broke, any¬ 
how, so fifty or sixty plunks won’t make much 


In the Gold Country 115 

difference. You going to be a miner, young¬ 
ster?” 

“ Not this trip,” said Ted, with a smile. 
“ Say, I’d like to know how you get the gold 
out with that.” 

“ At first we used to put a blanket in the 
rocker, and wash the pay dirt on that. Our 
prospect hole has water in it, and we can use 
it over and over. Some of the holes are dry, 
and there the men have to pack their pay dirt 
down to the shore and use surf water for wash¬ 
ing. Most of our gold is so fine that the 
blanket didn’t stop it, so now we use ‘ quick.* 
I reckon you’d call it mercury, but we call it 
quick. You see, it saves time, and work-time 
up here is so short, on account of winter setting 
in so early, that we have to save up our spare 
minutes and not waste ’em on long words.” 

Ted grinned cheerfully and asked: “What 
do you do with the quick?” 

“ We paint it over the bottom of the rocker, 


116 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 

and it acts like a charm and catches every speck 
of gold that comes its way as the dirt is washed 
over it. The quick and the gold make a sort 
of amalgam.” 

“ But how do you get at the gold after it 
amalgams, or whatever you call it?” asked 
Ted. 

“ Sure we fry it in the frying-pan, and it’s 
elegant pancakes it makes,” said the man. “ See 
here,” and he pulled from his pocket several 
flat masses that looked like pieces of yellow 
sponge. “ This is pure gold. All the quick 
has gone off, and this is the real stuff, just as 
good as money. An ounce will buy sixteen dol¬ 
lars’ worth of anything in Nome.” 

“ It looks mighty pretty,” said Ted. “ Seems 
to me it’s redder than any gold I ever saw.” 

“ It is,” said his father. “ Nome beach gold 
is redder and brighter than any other Alaskan 
gold. I guess I’ll have to get you each a piece 
for a souvenir,” and both boys were made happy 


In the Gold Country 117 

by the present of a quaintly shaped nugget, 
bought by Mr. Strong from the very miner who 
had mined it, which of course added to its value. 

“ You’re gathering quite a lot of souvenirs, 
Ted,” said his father. “ It’s a great relief that 
you have not asked me for anything alive yet. 
I have been expecting a modest request for a 
Malamute or a Husky pup, or perhaps a pet 
reindeer to take home, but so far you have been 
quite moderate in your demands.” 

“ Kalitan never asks for anything,” said Ted. 
“ I asked him once why it was, and he said In¬ 
dian boys never got what they asked for; that 
sometimes they had things given to them that 
they hadn’t asked for, but, if he asked the Tyee 
for anything, all he got was 1 Good Indian get 
things for himself,’ and he had to go to work 
to get the thing he wanted. I guess it’s a pretty 
good plan, too, for I notice that I get just as 
much as I did when I used to tease you for 
things,” Teddy added, sagely. 


118 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 


“ Wise boy,” said his father. “ You’re cer¬ 
tainly more agreeable to live with. The next 
thing you are to have is a visit to an Esquimo 
village, and, if I can find some of the Esquimo 
carvings, you shall have something to take home 
to mother. Kalitan, what would you like to 
remember the Esquimos by? ” 

Kalitan smiled and replied, simply, “ Muk- 
luks.” 

“What are mukluks? ” demanded Ted. 

“ Esquimo moccasins,” said Mr. Strong. 
“ Well, you shall both have a pair, and they 
are rather pretty things, too, as the Esquimos 
make them.” 


CHAPTER XI 


AFTERNOON TEA IN AN EGLU 

1 ’ 

The Esquimo village was reached across the 
tundra, and Teddy and Kalitan were much in¬ 
terested in the queer houses. Built for the long 
winter of six or eight months, when it is impos¬ 
sible to do anything out-of-doors, the eglu 1 
seems quite comfortable from the Esquimo 
point of view, but very strange to their Ameri¬ 
can cousins. 

“ I thought the Esquimos lived in snow 
houses,” said Ted, as they looked at the queer 
little huts, and Kalitan exclaimed: 

“ Huh! Innuit queer Indian! ” 

“No,” said Mr. Strong; “his hut is built 

1 The eglu is the Esquimo house. Often they occupy 
tents during the summer, but return to the huts the first 
cool nights. 


119 


120 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 

by digging a hole about six feet deep and stand- 
ing logs up side by side around the hole. On 
the top of these are placed logs which rest even 
with the ground. Stringers are put across these, 
and other logs and moss and mud roofed over 
it, leaving an opening in the middle about two 
feet square. This is covered with a piece of 
walrus entrail so thin and transparent that light 
easily passes through it, and it serves as a win¬ 
dow, the only one they have. A smoke-hole is 
cut through the roof, but there is no door, for 
the hut is entered through another room built 
in the same way, fifteen or twenty feet distant, 
and connected by an underground passage about 
two feet square with the main room. The en¬ 
trance-room is entered through a hole in the 
roof, from which a ladder reaches the bottom 
of the passage.” 

“ Can we go into a hut? ” asked Ted. 

“ I’ll ask that woman cooking over there,” 
said Mr. Strong, as they went up to a woman 


Afternoon Tea in an Eglu 121 

who was cooking over a peat fire, holding over 
the coals an old battered skillet in which she 
was frying fish. She nodded and smiled at the 
boys, and, as Esquimos are always friendly and 
hospitable souls, told them to go right into her 
eglu, which was close by. 

They climbed down the ladder, crawled 
along the narrow passage to where a skin hung 
before an opening, and, pushing it aside, entered 
the living-room. Here they found an old man 
busily engaged in carving a walrus tooth, an¬ 
other sewing mukluks, while a girl was singing 
a quaint lullaby to a child of two in the corner. 

The young girl rose, and, putting the baby 
down on a pile of skins, spoke to them in good 
English, saying quietly: 

“ You are welcome. I am Alalik.” 

“ May we see your wares ? We wish to buy,” 
said Mr. Strong, courteously. 

“ You may see, whether you buy or not,” she 
said, with a smile, which showed a mouth full 


122 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 

of even white teeth, and she spread out before 
them a collection of Esquimo goods. There 
were all kinds of carvings from walrus tusks, 
grass baskets, moccasins of walrus hide, stone 
bowls and cups, parkas made of reindeer skin, 
and one superb one of bird feathers, ramleikas, 
and all manner of carved trinkets, the most 
charming of which, to Ted’s eyes, being a tiny 
oomiak with an Esquimo in it, made to be used 
as a breast-pin. This he bought for his mother, 
and a carving of a baby for Judith; while his 
father made him and Kalitan happy with pres¬ 
ents. 

“ Where did you learn such English? ” asked 
Mr. Strong of Alalik, wondering, too, where 
she learned her pretty, modest ways, for Es¬ 
quimo women are commonly free and easy. 

“ I was for two years at the Mission at Holy 
Cross,” she said. “ There I learned much that 
was good. Then my mother died, and I came 
home.” 


Afternoon Tea in an Eglu 123 

She spoke simply, and Mr. Strong wondered 
what would be the fate of this sweet-faced girl. 

“Did you learn to sew from the sisters?” 
asked Ted, who had been looking at the gar¬ 
ments she had made, in which the stitches, 
though made in skins and sewn with deer sinew, 
were as even as though done with a machine. 

Oh, no,” she said. “ We learn that at 
home. When I was no larger than Zaksriner 
there, my mother taught me to braid thread 
from deer and whale sinew, and we must sew 
very much in winter if we have anything to sell 
when summer comes. It is very hard to get 
enough to live. Since the Boston men come, 
our people waste the summer in idleness, so 
we have nothing stored for the winter’s food. 
Hundreds die and many sicknesses come upon 
us. In the village where my people lived, in 
each house lay the dead of what the Boston 
men called measles, and there were not left 
enough living to bury the dead. Only we es- 


124 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 


caped, and a Black Gown came from the Mis¬ 
sion to help, and he took me and Antisarlook, 
my brother, to the school. The rest came here, 
where we live very well because there are in the 
summer, people who buy what we make in the 
winter.” 

“ How do you get your skins so soft? ” asked 
Ted, feeling the exquisite texture of a bag she 
had just finished. It was a beautiful bit of 
work, a tobacco-pouch or “ Tee-rum-i-ute,” 
made of reindeer skin, decorated with beads and 
the soft creamy fur of the ermine in its summer 
hue. 

“ We scrape it a very long time and pull and 
rub,” she said. “ Plenty of time for patience 
in winter.” 

“ Your hands are too small and slim. I 
shouldn’t think you could do much with those 
stiff skins,” said Teddy. 

Alalik smiled at the compliment, and a little 
flush crept into the clear olive of her skin. She 


Afternoon Tea in an Eglu 125 

was clean and neat, and the eglu, though close 
from being shut up, was neater than most of the 
Esquimo houses. The bowl filled with seal oil, 
which served as fire and light, was unlighted, 
and Alalik’s father motioned to her and said 
something in Innuit, to which she smilingly 
replied: 

“ My father wishes you to eat with us,” she 
said, and produced her flint bag. In this were 
some wads of fibrous material used for wicks. 
Rolling a piece of this in wood ashes, she held 
it between her thumb and a flint, struck her 
steel against the stone, and sparks flew out 
which lighted the fibre so that it burst into 
flame. This was thrown into the bowl of oil, 
and she deftly began preparing tea. She served 
it in cups of grass, and Ted thought he had 
never tasted anything nicer than the cup of 
afternoon tea served in an eglu . 

“ Alalik, what were you singing as we came 
in? ” asked Ted. 


126 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 


“ A song my mother always sang to us,” she 
replied. “ It is called ‘ Ahmi,’ and is an Es- 
quimo slumber song.” 

“ Will you sing it now? ” asked Mr. Strong, 
and she smiled in assent and sang the quaint, 
crooning lullaby of her Esquimo mother — 

“ The wind blows over the Yukon. 

My husband hunts the deer on the Koyukun Mountains, 
Ahmi, Ahmi, sleep, little one, wake not. 

Long since my husband departed. Why does he wait in the 
mountains ? 

Ahmi, Ahmi, sleep, little one, softly. 

Where is my own ? 

Does he lie starving on the hillside ? Why does he linger ? 
Comes he not soon, I will seek him among the mountains. 
Ahmi, Ahmi, sleep, little one, sleep. 

The crow has come laughing. 

His beak is red, his eyes glisten, the false one. 

* Thanks for a good meal to Kuskokala the Shaman. 

On the sharp mountain quietly lies your husband.* 

Ahmi, Ahmi, sleep, little one, wake not. 

* Twenty deers’ tongues tied to the pack on his shoulders; 
Not a tongue in his mouth to call to his wife with, 

Wolves, foxes, and ravens are fighting for morsels. 

Tough and hard are the sinews, not so the child in your 
bosom. ’ 


Afternoon Tea in an Eglu 127 

Ahmi, Ahmi, sleep, little one, wake not. 

Over the mountains slowly staggers the hunter. 

Two bucks’ thighs on his shoulders with bladders of fat 
between them. 

Twenty deers’ tongues in his belt. Go, gather wood, old 
woman ! 

Off flew the crow, liar, cheat, and deceiver ! 

Wake, little sleeper, and call to your father. 

He brings you back fat, marrow and venison fresh from the 
mountain. 

Tired and worn, he has carved a toy of the deer’s horn. 

While he was sitting and waiting long for the deer on the 
hillside. 

Wake, and see the crow hiding himself from the arrow. 

Wake, little one, wake, for here is your father.” 


Thanking Alalik for the quaint song, sung 
in a sweet, touching voice, they all took their 
departure, laden with purchases and delighted 
with their visit. 

“ But you must not think this is a fair sample 
of Esquimo hut or Esquimo life,” said Mr. 
Strong to the boys. “ These are near enough 
civilized to show the best side of their race, but 
theirs must be a terrible existence who are in- 


128 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 


land or on islands where no one ever comes, 
and whose only idea of life is a constant strug¬ 
gle for food.” 

“ I think I would rather be an American,” 
remarked Ted, while Kalitan said, briefly: 


“ I like Thlinkit.” 


CHAPTER XII 


THE SPLENDOUR OF SAGHALIE TYEE 

The tundra was greenish-brown in colour, 
and looked like a great meadow stretching from 
the beach, like a new moon, gently upward to 
the cones of volcanic mountains far away. 

The ground, frozen solid all the year, thaws 
out for a foot or two on the surface during the 
warm months, and here and there were scattered 
wild flowers; spring beauties, purple primroses, 
yellow anemone, and saxifrages bloomed in 
beauty, and wild honey-bees, gay bumblebees, 
and fat mosquitoes buzzed and hummed every¬ 
where. 

Ted and Kalitan were going to see the rein¬ 
deer farm at Port Clarence, and, as this was 
to be their last jaunt in Alaska, they were deter- 


129 


130 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 

mined to make the best of it. Next day they 
were to take ship from Cape Prince of Wales 
and go straight to Sitka. Here Ted was to 
start for home, and Mr. Strong was to leave 
Kalitan at the Mission School for a year’s 
schooling, which, to Kalitan’s great delight, was 
to be a present to him from his American 
friends. 

“Tell us about the reindeer farms, daddy. 
Have they always been here? ” demanded Ted, 
as they tramped over the tundra, covered with 
moss, grass, and flowers. 

“ No,” said his father. “ They are quite 
recent arrivals in Alaska. The Esquimos used 
to live entirely upon the game they killed before 
the whites came. There were many walruses, 
which they used for many things; whales, too, 
they could easily capture before the whalers 
drove them north, and then they hunted the 
wild reindeer, until now there are scarcely any 
left. There was little left for them to eat but 


Splendour of Saghalie Tyee 131 

small fish, for you see the whites had taken away 
or destroyed their food supplies. 

“ One day, in 1891, an American vessel dis¬ 
covered an entire village of Esquimos starving, 
being reduced to eating their dogs, and it was 
thought quite time that the government did 
something for these people whose land they had 
bought. Finding that people of the same race 
in Siberia were prosperous and healthy, they 
sent to investigate conditions, and found that 
the Siberian Esquimos lived entirely by means 
of the reindeer. The government decided to 
start a reindeer farm and see if it would not 
benefit the natives.” 

“ How does it work? ” asked Ted. 

“ Very well, indeed,” said his father. “ At 
first about two hundred animals were brought 
over, and they increased about fifty per cent, 
the first year. Everywhere in the arctic region 
the tundra gives the reindeer the moss he lives 
on. It is never dry in summer because the frost 


132 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 

prevents any underground drainage, and even 
in winter the animals feed upon it and thrive. 
There are, it is said, hundreds of thousands of 
square miles of reindeer moss in Alaska, and 
reindeer stations have been established in many 
places, and, as the natives are the only ones 
allowed to raise them, it seems as if this might 
be the way found to help the industrious Es- 
quimos to help themselves.” 

“ But if it all belongs to the government, 
how can it help the natives? ” asked Ted. 

“ Of course they have to be taught the busi¬ 
ness,” said Mr. Strong. “ The government 
brought over some Lapps and Finlanders to 
care for the deer at first, and these took young 
Esquimos to train. Each one serves five years 
as herder, having a certain number of deer set 
apart for him each year, and at the end oT his 
service goes into business for himself.” 

“ Why, I think that’s fine,” cried Ted. “ Oh, 
Daddy, what is that? It looks like a queer, 


Splendour of Saghalie Tyee 133 

tangled up forest, all bare branches in the sum¬ 
mer.” 

“ That’s a reindeer herd lying down for their 
noonday rest. What you see are their antlers. 
How would you like to be in the midst of that 
forest of branches? ” asked Mr. Strong. 

“ No, thank you,” said Teddy, but Kalitan 
said: 

“ Reindeer very gentle; they will not hurt 
unless very much frightened.” 

“ What queer-looking animals they are,” said 
Ted, as they approached nearer. “ A sort of a 
cross between a deer and a cow.” 

“ Perhaps they are more useful than hand¬ 
some, but I think there is something picturesque 
about them, especially when hitched to sleds 
and skimming over the frozen ground.” 

The farm at Teller was certainly an interest¬ 
ing spot. Teddy saw the deer fed and milked, 
the Lapland women being experts in that line, 
and found the herders, in their quaint parkas 


134 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 

tied around the waist, and conical caps, scarcely 
less interesting than the deer. Two funny little 
Lapp babies he took to ride on a large reindeer, 
which proceeding did not frighten the babies 
half so much as did the white boy who put them 
on the deer. A reindeer was to them an every¬ 
day occurrence, but a Boston boy was quite an¬ 
other matter. 

Better than the reindeer, however, Teddy 
and Kalitan liked the draught dogs who hauled 
the water at the station. A great cask on 
wheels was pulled by five magnificent dogs, 
beautiful fellows with bright alert faces. 

“ They are the most faithful creatures in 
the world,” said Mr. Strong, “ devoted to their 
masters, even though the masters are cruel to 
them. Reindeer can work all day without a 
mouthful to eat, living on one meal at night of 
seven pounds of corn-meal mush, with a pound 
or so of dried fish cooked into it. On long jour¬ 
neys they can live on dried fish and snow, and 


Splendour of Saghalie Tyee 135 

five dogs will haul four hundred pounds thirty- 
five miles a day. They carry the United States 
mails all over Alaska.” 

“ I should think the dog would be worth 
more than the reindeer,” said Ted. 

“ Many Alaskan travellers say he is by far 
the best for travelling, but he cannot feed him¬ 
self on the tundra, nor can he be eaten him¬ 
self if necessary. The Jarvis expedition proved 
the value of the reindeer,” said Mr. Strong. 

“ What was that? ” asked Ted. 

“ Some years ago a whale fleet was caught 
in the ice near Point Barrow, and in danger 
of starving to death, and word of this was sent 
to the government. The President ordered the 
revenue cutter Bear to go as far north as possi¬ 
ble and send a relief party over the ice by sledge 
with provisions. 

“ When the Bear could go no farther, her 
commander landed Lieutenant Jarvis, who was 
familiar with the region, and a relief party. 


136 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 

They were to seek the nearest reindeer station 
and drive a reindeer herd to the relief of the 
starving people. The party reached Cape 
Nome and secured some deer, and the rescue 
was made, but under such difficulties that it is 
one of the most heroic stories of the age. 
These men drove four hundred reindeer over 
two thousand miles north of the Arctic Circle, 
over frozen seas and snow-covered mountains, 
and found the starving sailors, who ate the 
fresh reindeer meat, which lasted until the ice 
melted in the spring and set them free.” 

“ I think that was fine,” said Ted. “ But it 
seems a little hard on the reindeer, doesn’t it, 
to tramp all that distance just to be eaten?” 

“ Animals made for man,” said Kalitan, 
briefly. 

* * * 

A golden glory filled the sky, running up¬ 
wards toward the zenith, spreading there in 
varying colours from palest yellow to orange 


Splendour of Saghalie Tyee 137 

and deepest, richest red. Glowing streams of 
light streamed heavenward like feathery wings, 
as Ted and Kalitan sailed southward, and Ted 
exclaimed in wonder: “ What is it? ” 

“ The splendour of Saghalie Tyee,” 1 said 
Kalitan, solemnly. 

“ The Aurora Borealis,” said Mr. Strong, 
“ and very fortunate you are to see it. Indeed, 
Teddy, you seem to have brought good luck, 
for everything has gone well this trip. Our 
faces are turned homeward now, but we will 
have to come again next summer and bring 
mother and Judith.” 

“ I’ll be glad to get home to mother again,” 
said Ted, then noting Kalitan’s wistful face, 
“ We’ll find you at Sitka and go home with you 
to the island,” and he put his arm affectionately 
over the Indian boy’s shoulder. Kalitan pointed 
to the sky, whence the splendour was fading, 
and a flock of birds was skimming southwards. 

1 Way-up High Chief, i.e., God. 


138 Our Little Alaskan Cousin 

“ From the sky fades the splendour of Sa- 
ghalie Tyee ” he said. “ The summer is gone, 
the birds fly southward. The light goes from 
me when my White Brother goes with the birds. 
Unless he return with them, all is dark for 
Kalitan! ” 


THE END. 


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The Story of the Eagle 

The King of the Mamozekel 

The Story of the Moose 

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THE STORY OF THE PANTHER 

The Haunter of the Pine Gloom 

THE STORY OF THE LYNX 

The Return to the Trails 

THE STORY OF THE BEAR 

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THE STORY OF THE RACCOON 

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Wee Dorothy. 

By LAURA UPDEGRAFF 

A story of two orphan children, the tender devotion of 
the eldest, a boy, for his sister being its theme and setting. 
With a bit of sadness at the beginning, the story is other¬ 
wise bright and sunny, and altogether wholesome in every 
way. 

The King of the Golden River: A Legend 

of Stiria. By JOHN RUSK IN 

Written fifty years or more ago, and not originally in¬ 
tended for publication, this little fairy-tale soon became 
known and made a place for itself. 

A Child’s Garden of Verses. 

By R. L . STEVENSON 

Mr. Stevenson’s little volume is too well known to need 
description. It will be heartily welcomed in this new and 
attractive edition. 

A—10 



















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